


Diamonds, Rust, and Opals

by hope_savaria



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: (seriously they eat a lot), (sort of), 5+1 Things, Banter, Canon Compliant, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food, Happy Ending, Internal Monologue, Light Angst, Maps, Marriage Proposal, New York City, Ocean's 8 team (mentioned), POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Post-Heist, Songfic, books and music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-12 20:17:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18453884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_savaria/pseuds/hope_savaria
Summary: Debbie and Lou reunite after Lou's trip to California. They've danced around each other for months (years, really), but now everything feels different. This time, it feels real.





	1. Hearing a Voice I'd Known a Couple of Light Years Ago

**Author's Note:**

> Each of the first five chapters is loosely based on a stanza from Joan Baez's 1975 song "Diamonds and Rust." The final chapter is what happens after that, so it's sort of a loose 5 + 1 format. I will include each stanza in the summary for the chapter it belongs to. Here's a YouTube link to the song, if you want it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ST9TZBb9v8. 
> 
> There are also numerous references to Sherlock Holmes and to some J.S. Bach music. I also may or may not have included some cryptic "Carol" references (because I couldn't f***ing help myself), and a Bob Dylan reference (which was both because of the song and because of "I'm Not There"). 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has written for this pairing thus far. Y'all are inspirational af! <3
> 
> Special shout outs to how_to_sit_gay and to Netterz because your work blows me away! (I don't know how to tag people, if there's a way to do that in here). 
> 
> My plan is to post a chapter every couple days. I have everything written, but I'm still editing the last few. The POV will shift throughout: Chapters 1 and 2 are Debbie, Chapters 3 and 4 are Lou, Chapter 5 is Debbie, and Chapter 6 is Lou. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July 2018
> 
> Well, I'll be damned   
> Here comes your ghost again   
> But that's not unusual   
> It's just that the moon is full   
> And you happened to call   
> And here I sit   
> Hand on the telephone   
> Hearing a voice I'd known   
> A couple of light years ago   
> Heading straight for a fall….
> 
> (Debbie)

“You would have loved it,” Debbie whispered to the letters on the wall.

They didn’t respond. They never did. Somehow, after all these months, she still expected them to smile at her, to offer her _something_ other than solid marble. She sat for a moment, half expecting a lead to drop out of the roof of the mausoleum into her martini glass as she took a sip. She took comfort in this routine. The words she quipped to the silence were always the same; the truth of them had not yet diluted into liturgy.

On this particular night, the light of a moon just past its full reflected off the marble of the stones, shining through despite the lights of the city around her. It was after hours, so she had picked the lock on the cemetery gate. In the quiet of the night, she could hear it swinging slightly in the warm breeze. The graves were quieter at night; she didn’t believe in ghosts. Besides, the temperature was more comfortable at 11pm. This July was particularly steamy. Not for the first time, Debbie wished she’d taken Lou up on the offer of California. Parole be damned – the summer weather was unbearable. She would hardly blame Danny for not showing up, even if he _were_ alive. She traced his name slowly with the tip of one finger, shivering slightly despite the tropical air around her. The stones were cold.

Her martini was only half gone, but Debbie decided she was done for today. She’d be back soon – though she never set a date, she always wandered back here. She figured it was about once a week or so, but she’d lost track. It wasn’t information she needed to hold onto. She screwed the lid back onto her jar of olives, the sound of metal on glass echoing around the mausoleum. Debbie stood up, the half-drunk martini still dangling from her fingers.

“You better be in there,” she whispered, toasting Danny’s grave like she always did. She sipped the drink, allowing the olive to fall into her mouth. She chewed it slowly as she walked out of the mausoleum and into the moonlight without looking back.

A few blocks away from the loft, Debbie felt her phone buzz in her pocket. It rang twice as she slowly pulled it out to look at the screen, transferring her now empty martini glass into her purse as she did so. She didn’t recognize the number, but answered anyway. Danny was still on her mind.

“Hello?”

“Why are you answering an unknown number?” Debbie didn’t need to see Lou’s face to know that she was smirking on the other end of the line.

“Why are _you_ calling from an unknown number?”

“We could do this all night,” Lou replied.

“I had other plans, but I could try to clear my schedule.” Debbie tried to sigh in a way that sounded as though this may be a burden.  

Lou rewarded her sarcasm with a grunt of laughter. They lapsed into silence. Debbie’s boots clicked on the pavement as she made her way back to the loft. Her loft? Lou’s loft? _Their_ loft? She wasn’t sure.

“So, what’s up?” Debbie asked finally. “What are you doing in Ohio?”

“Do you know _every_ U.S. area code?”

“Prison was boring once I’d perfected the Met job. Ask me about airport codes sometime, but don’t change the subj…”

“I’m coming home, Deb.” Lou interrupted her.

That was enough to make Debbie stop walking. Lou’s voice sounded different suddenly, sounded like the Lou she’d known before prison, someone raw and real. _Her_ Lou. They’d been dancing around each other for months, testing waters that hadn’t been disturbed in well over six years. From the day Debbie had been paroled until the day Lou had left for California, the electricity between them had crackled. At times it exploded. Debbie could still feel the way Lou’s hands had run up her thighs under her black and gold dress as her teeth darkened the skin at the base of her neck, could still feel the sequins of Lou’s green Met Gala jumpsuit tingling under her fingertips. All this flashed through Debbie’s mind in an instant as she stood still on the humid Brooklyn pavement.

“I thought you…” Debbie trailed off, unsure of where that sentence was going to begin with. 

“Christ, Debbie,” Lou muttered into the phone, “you’re not one to be at a loss for words.”

Debbie managed a dry laugh. She cleared her throat and kept walking, hoping the movement would still the heat curling in her stomach. Lou was right; she always tried to have the last word. It was a quality that had gotten her into trouble on more than one occasion, as Danny had reminded her all too often.

“Look,” Lou said frankly. Debbie could tell by the way she paused that she was smoking a cigarette. Debbie heard her exhale before she continued. “I’m not asking you for anything, okay? California was wonderful, but I miss New York, and…” Debbie waited her out, walking quickly through the pot-holed lot next to the loft. “I miss _you_.”

Debbie fumbled with her keys as she unlocked the door to the loft, desperate to get inside. The outdoors felt too public to say what she felt, though she’d seen hardly anyone on her walk from the cemetery and the lot surrounding the loft was deserted. Sliding past the threshold, Debbie leaned against the wall just inside the door. She heard Lou take another drag of her cigarette, waiting. Lou always waited.

“Yeah, I…” Debbie began. Her voice felt strange, as though the butterflies in her stomach had moved into her throat. She absentmindedly ran a finger over the spot on her neck that Lou always favored. “I miss you, too.” The words didn’t sound like hers, though she meant them.  

“You better be eating, Jailbird.” Debbie could hear that she was smiling. God, Debbie missed her smile.  

“Yeah…yeah, I’m eating. I’m…good.” Truth be told, she was still flying high from the success of the Met heist, and though she was occasionally plagued by thoughts of Danny and sometimes of prison, things were actually looking up for her. Of course, it didn’t hurt to have thirty-eight million dollars trickling into her account.  

“Planning a job?” Lou did a bad job hiding her curiosity.

“Of course not. I would’ve called you,” Debbie replied. She pushed herself off the wall by the door and flung her shoes into a corner where they landed with two satisfying clunks. She made her way to the kitchen by the light of the moon pouring in through the high windows, flicked on the stove light, and started the kettle.

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” Lou said after a pause.

Debbie felt warm at the thought. “Good,” she said, trying to sound as sincere as she felt. “That’s…that’s good.”  

“…Probably before you can memorize every zip code in America.”

“Doubt it. I’m already half way through them.” She wasn’t, but Lou didn’t have to know that.

“Sleep well, Deb…you’re sleeping, right?”

“Yes, Lou.” Debbie sighed with false exasperation. “I’m sleeping, and I’m eating. Don’t worry, and don't fall off that stupid motorcycle.”

“Roger that.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Count on it. Goodnight.”

“’Night, Lou.” Debbie clutched the phone in her hand long after it beeped to tell her the call had ended. Then, shaking herself slightly, she placed the phone on the counter and turned to get a mug from the cupboard just as the kettle began to sing.

Tea in hand, Debbie made her way to the couch and sank into the cushions. She pulled a book into her lap but didn’t open it. Minutes passed before she realized that she’d neglected to turn on a lamp. She prided herself on being put together, but Lou made all of that go away, made her come undone like no one else ever had. It wasn’t just that she was able to keep up with Debbie’s banter, or that she was always the most beautiful woman in the room, it was the knowledge that she actually cared for Debbie without making her feel like a burden. She gripped the steaming mug in her hands so hard that it hurt, trying to force her brain into finding words for the emotions running through her body.

Frustrated and impatient, Debbie took a gulp of scalding tea and felt the burning liquid slide painfully down the back of her throat. She put the cup on a coaster and opened the book in front of her, trying to lose herself (again) in _The Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_. It had always worked before, and even now with Lou sauntering through her thoughts, the old words calmed her. This book was her sanctuary, somewhere she felt understood. Watson – though critical of the cryptic and unforgiving Holmes – nevertheless admired the detective, understood his quirks and his insufferable qualities. She related strongly to those insufferable qualities. She was Holmes, but on the other side of the law. Each time she picked up one of Doyle’s stories, she was struck with new ideas. It was how she had come up with the idea of memorizing area codes a few years ago in prison. When she wasn’t planning a job, this was how she kept her mind nimble. Besides, the stuff she chose to learn came in handy, as it had when Lou called from Ohio. The words blurred on the page as soon as Lou’s name crossed her mind. Debbie closed the book again, mid-way through Watson’s explanation of Holmes’s bizarre knowledge and its limits in _A Study in Scarlet_.

 _Shit_.

Debbie needed something – _anything_ – to get her mind away from Lou. She had been fine for the past few months while Lou had been away. She hadn’t pined or ached for her. It didn’t seem necessary. But now, knowing that she would see her again in less than twenty-four hours, Debbie’s nerves were getting the best of her. She’d put off thinking about what she wanted, delved into the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, decided to learn every street of New York City (from boulevards to alleyways), and taken time to visit Danny’s grave. She could always work it out later, she told herself. But “later” had arrived. Lou was on her way _home_. To her. To…what? _“I’m not asking you for anything,”_ Lou had said on the phone.

“Ask me,” Debbie said aloud to the empty room, “God damn it, Lou, just _ask me_.”

Debbie picked up her cup of tea from its coaster and raised it to her mouth. As she did so, she noticed ripples on the surface of the liquid, which quivered in time with her shaking hand. Without meaning to, Debbie found that her brain was taking a strange inventory of her own body: sweaty palms, shaking fingers, elevated pulse, butterflies threatening to fly out of her stomach to choke her breath. This was fear.

But no. She _knew_ fear. Fear was what she’d felt the day they told her Danny was dead. Fear was Lou saying she’d walk if Debbie followed through with framing Claude Becker. Fear was fast and quick-thinking. _Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth._ Debbie traced the embossed name on the front of the book in front of her. Arthur Conan Doyle had written those words a very long time ago, and yet here they were, guiding Debbie to her conclusion despite the clouds obscuring her focus.

 _This is love_ , Debbie thought. Without registering the revelation, she got up from the couch, turned off the light, and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. She brushed her teeth, undressed, and got into bed in the dark. Her eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling.

 _You idiot_ , a voice at the back of her head said quietly, with an all too familiar smirk. _You love her. You_ love _Lou Miller._ Debbie turned over and closed her eyes.

“I know,” she whispered to the voice in her head, pretending that the lump in her throat didn’t exist. _I know._

**

Debbie awoke to the sun poking her hard in both eyes. In her distraction the night before, she had neglected to draw the curtains, and now she remembered why Lou had hung them in the first place. Debbie had wrinkled her nose at them when she first stepped into her room, whose east-facing windows looked out over the empty lot next door. Lou had rolled her eyes.

“Trust me,” Lou had said, “you’ll thank me in the morning.”

Debbie had thanked her, but only to herself, instead choosing to complain about the fabric to Lou over breakfast once her corneas had recovered. Lou took it as a “thank you” anyway, as Debbie knew she would.

Rolling onto her back, Debbie kneaded her forehead with the heels of her hands, trying to press some clarity into her skull. Today was supposed to be her “rest” day. Once a week, she set aside a day in which to do all the necessary things that made her obsessive study of New York’s streets possible, her logic being that memorizing all of that would be pretty useless if she died of starvation in the process. She would shop[lift] for food, check in with Nine Ball to make sure their footprint was still clean, call Tammy to check that everyone’s accounts looked normal, and read the news on the laptop Lou had left behind. Mostly, she scanned local pages for mentions of the Claude Becker case, but occasionally she found herself on an ever-diversifying array of news sites hoping wistfully for some sign of Danny. With each week that passed, she became more certain of his death, and yet some part of her still hoped, despite every logical bone in her body (which was most of them) telling her to give it up.

Debbie sat up and checked the time on Danny’s watch: 8:00 am. Lou wouldn’t be here before 5:00 pm, judging by where she’d called from last night. She had to pull herself together. This hazy, lovestruck fog was impractical, especially since the object of her affection was still a few hundred miles away. Why couldn’t her brain just save it for when Lou was actually here? She made her way to the bathroom and started the shower, hoping the running water would wake her up and looking forward to a cup of very strong tea when she got downstairs.

Ten minutes later, Debbie emerged from the bathroom feeling slightly more herself. She tried not to notice the fact that she was spending a lot more time choosing underwear and putting on makeup than she normally would. Nonchalance was her default mood. On her way downstairs, she sent her weekly, cryptic text to Nine Ball about their footprint and received a single “thumbs-up” emoji barely ten seconds later. While the kettle boiled, she called Tammy, who answered on the next to last ring (as usual) and made Debbie wait until she’d gotten away from her children and husband (as always).  

“Everything’s fine, Debbie,” Tammy said in a business-like tone, “no red flags.”

“Great,” Debbie responded, mentally checking that box off her list for the week. “Thanks, Tim-Tam. Have a good…”

“So, Lou’s coming back?” Tammy interrupted her before she could finish her customary farewell. Her voice was softer now, friendly instead of formal. 

“Yup.” Debbie tried to make her voice as casual as possible, but she wasn’t sure if Tammy fell for it. She had enunciated the ‘p’ sound with more aspiration than she intended and heard a small “pop” of feedback in the phone.

“And?”  

“And what, Tammy?” Deb responded in a sing-song voice, playing dumb even though she knew that never worked.

Tammy sighed into the phone. Debbie could almost hear her eyes rolling.

“Have a good week, Tim-Tam,” Debbie said in an even tone.

“Yeah…um…yeah, you too.”

Debbie hung up before she could say (or imply) anything more about Lou. Speaking to Tammy had reminded Debbie that the loft itself probably needed some attention. Tammy had helped Lou keep it in order during the Met Heist, and even Debbie had helped sometimes, preferring to run a job in a relatively orderly environment. Since Lou had left for California and the rest of the team had dissipated, Debbie had slacked off on cleaning. The sun pouring in through the high windows illuminated dust on most of the surfaces except for those covered in massive maps of New York, which Debbie had finagled out of an archive at Columbia at the beginning of June. Half-drunk cups of tea sat on coasters next to almost every reading lamp. There weren’t many dishes in the sink, but that was mostly because she couldn’t cook anything other than toast and had opted for take-out on most evenings. It’s not like she couldn’t afford it. There was still a decent selection of beer in the fridge, though Debbie suspected that Constance had stolen some when she wasn’t paying attention. She was also fairly certain that the paper model of the Met had met the same fate.  

With a self-pitying sigh, she pulled the last clean mug from the cupboard and poured boiling water over two tea bags. She left the tea to steep on the counter and began to move the maps onto the stage on the other side of the loft, stacking them according to how well she knew them with the most familiar ones on the bottom. The room looked better with the papers out of the way, and Debbie returned to the kitchen to drink her tea slowly. Outside, it was getting hot, and though the sun had now risen above the height of the windows, she could feel the humidity seeping in from every side. She rubbed a hand across the back of her neck and could already feel the cool dampness of sweat that had gathered along her hairline. Lou had to have a reason to head back here in the middle of the summer. No one in their right mind would abandon northern California’s coastline at this time of year for New York.

For a second, Debbie considered the idea that Lou really was coming back because she missed her. The next second, she pushed the idea from her mind. It didn’t do to get her hopes up. Their fraught romantic relationship had ended almost ten years ago, and whatever had sparked between them during the Met Heist could’ve been the result of a cocktail of nerves, adrenaline, and nostalgia. Given the overwhelming evidence displayed by her own body, Debbie had to admit that her own feelings for Lou were not insignificant, but she couldn't be sure that Lou felt the same way. What had Lou said last night? _“I’m not asking you for anything.”_ But was that true? Or was she trying to dance around Debbie the same way Debbie was dancing around her?

Debbie drank the last drops of tea, wincing slightly at the bitter flavor of the bottom of the cup. She felt the caffeine slowly seeping into her veins, motivating her to get moving, to do _something_ , because standing here and speculating about Lou’s feelings was not going to make time pass any faster. Desperate for a distraction, Debbie made her way to the turntable by the windows and flipped through the records. Since Lou had left, her punk rock tastes had disappeared under Debbie’s favorites, which Lou had saved for her in a box while she’d been in prison. It was a token of peace, Debbie felt, that Lou had saved these pieces of her soul despite the rift that had grown between them in the years before her sentence. With reverence that she reserved mostly for good clothes and good jewelry, Debbie slid Glenn Gould’s 1981 recording of the Bach _Goldberg Variations_ from its cardboard sheath.

She carefully placed the needle onto the record and paused to listen to the _Aria_. Everything in the world seemed to still. The universe stopped expanding. Gravity and time and self were irrelevant. This was math made into music, precise and calculated like a well-executed con. Each note held kinetic energy that pulled her mind towards clarity. And then, after three minutes of deliberate, careful formulas, Gould took off into his frantic interpretations of the variations. Debbie felt that this was the only thing in the world that could run faster than her own brain. Moving like a clockwork doll around the loft in time to Gould’s bizarre shifts of mood and tempo, Debbie took a deep breath for the first time since Lou had called twelve hours ago. By the time Gould returned to the _Aria_ at the end of the recording, all the mugs were clean and the surfaces of the loft shone once more. Debbie lay in the middle of the floor and just _listened_. If the Met heist had proved one thing, it had shown Debbie that if she really set her mind to it, she could steal any _thing_ she wanted. But no matter their worth, jewels were still objects, solid and sellable. But the music of Bach and the words of Doyle? She couldn’t steal those. And so, she listened and she read, and somewhere between the notes and the words, she built her foundation.

The record had spun itself into silence many minutes ago, but Debbie still lay on the floor looking up at the rafters. It took her a long time to peel her back off the floor and climb the stairs to her room. Once there, she pulled on a simple overpriced sundress, retouched her makeup, and chose shoes that made her feel in control. Back downstairs, she grabbed her phone from the counter and made her way out the door, locking it behind her. She ran a hand over Lou’s old Toyota as she passed it, baking in the midday sun. She used her reflection in the back window to adjust her sunglasses and her hair before setting off towards the nearest subway station, her heels clicking on the rough asphalt of the empty lot. True to her promise to Constance, she’d bought everyone Metro cards after the heist. Even she had to admit that it was quicker and easier than scamming her way onto the train every time.

With groceries in hand, Debbie clicked her way back over the lot about an hour later. Though she felt better than she had last night, her hands were still a little shaky, so she had actually paid for the food. If she was going to get arrested again (God forbid), she’d rather it be for something more interesting than shoplifting. Her parole officer reminded her every time she met with him that crimes – no matter how petty – could be grounds for reimprisonment. Mostly, she ignored his warnings. She was more skilled than he knew. But today was different. The knowledge that Lou was probably the only person Debbie would consider _not_ stealing for was something that she wasn’t quite ready to examine, but it hadn’t stopped her from handing over her shiny new credit card to the high schooler behind the cash register.

**

Debbie was half way across the lot before she saw Lou’s bike parked next to the Toyota.


	2. Ten Years Ago, I Bought You Some Cufflinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As I remember your eyes   
> Were bluer than robin's eggs   
> My poetry was lousy you said   
> Where are you calling from?   
> A booth in the midwest   
> Ten years ago   
> I bought you some cufflinks   
> You brought me something   
> We both know what memories can bring   
> They bring diamonds and rust….
> 
> (Debbie)

Debbie didn’t break stride, though her heart suddenly jumped into her throat. She realized she couldn’t feel the heat on her skin anymore, couldn’t feel much of anything at all. She felt like she was moving in slow motion. A part of her dreaded what she would feel when she saw Lou. Her breath caught in her throat and her head spun. But she couldn’t stop now; her legs were moving of their own accord, carrying her to the door, which Lou had left unlocked. Debbie pushed her way inside.

The main room of the loft was empty, but Debbie could hear the shower running upstairs. She felt relieved; it gave her a few minutes to collect her thoughts. She hadn’t worked this part out. Acting on autopilot, she put the groceries away, pausing only once when she heard the water shut off. Her heart beat faster.

“Hey, Lou,” Debbie whispered to herself, almost inaudibly, “welcome back…um, wasn’t sure if you’re aware, but I’m in love with you, and…” She groaned and stopped trying to rehearse her words. She pulled a beer from the fridge, opened it, and walked across the room to lean her back against the stage, her fingers worrying the edge of one of the gigantic maps. She stared at the room as if trying to memorize it, knowing that the moment Lou entered, everything would change. That’s how this worked, right?

“So, New York street maps, what’s that about?”

Debbie’s head snapped upward. Lou stood leaning against the edge of the balcony looking down at her. Her blue eyes sparkled behind strands of slightly damp blonde hair, and Debbie suddenly felt as though half the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. She took a sip of her beer to disguise her hesitation to respond, afraid her voice would betray her.

“Yeah,” she said finally. Lou’s eyebrows raised slightly, and Debbie felt compelled to explain, to make this reunion as natural as possible. “Well, I just thought…it could come in useful, you know, down the line.”

“So, you _are_ planning a job?”

“No,” Debbie shook her head, “nope. But I will…sometime, and this seemed…seemed…” She was finding it very hard to concentrate with Lou staring down at her. “…seemed good.” She finished the sentence lamely.

Lou nodded and began making her way down the stairs. Debbie tried not to stare at her, but she was finding it difficult to look at anything else. Her legs seemed to go on for miles below a pair of high-waisted black dress shorts. She wasn’t wearing as much jewelry as usual, but a few pieces of gold glinted at her neck. Something at Lou’s wrist caught the light, and Debbie noticed that the sleeves of her loose, white blouse were held together with cufflinks that Debbie had given her at least ten years ago. She’d stolen them off a blackjack dealer at a casino in Atlantic City back when she and Lou were running regular poker cons. They fit Lou’s style better than hers, and she’d given them to her later that evening, slipped them into her hand as she passed her a drink.

“How long have you been working on this?” Lou asked, joining Debbie by the stage and flipping through the corners of the maps.

“Month or so? Got the maps out of the archive at the beginning of June.”

“NYU?”

“Columbia.”

“Nice.” Lou leaned against the stage next to her and took the beer from Debbie’s hand. She took a sip and Debbie saw she was looking sideways at her.

“What?” Debbie felt exposed under Lou’s gaze.

Lou smirked in response and looked away.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, passing the beer back and forth between them. Debbie could feel the heat of Lou’s body next to her, and she tried to ignore the way her palms had gone slightly sweaty again and how every time their fingers brushed against the beer bottle her whole body felt like lightning.

“How was California?” Debbie asked finally when she could no longer take the silence.

“It was beautiful,” Lou replied, with a genuine smile and a slight shake of her head. She paused and shifted so that she rested on one elbow propped against the stage, her body turned fully towards Debbie.

“Good, I’m glad.” Debbie found it was hard to look at her.

“I wish you had come with me.” Lou’s voice dropped as though the loft itself was listening and Lou wanted to make sure it couldn’t hear them. “But I suppose you’re going to stand here and tell me that looking at dusty maps all day was more fun?”

“It had its merits,” Deb said defensively, though she was having trouble remembering why she’d stayed here, too.

“Sure.” Lou’s mouth was inches from her ear. Debbie felt a few hairs shift with Lou’s breath.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Debbie said suddenly, turning to face Lou.

“Oh, I do.”

Debbie was thrown by this response. “I don’t…” she began haltingly, shocked into saying something honest, and desperately grasping at the opportunity to not mess it up. “I don’t know what I want,” she said finally.

Lou’s forehead creased slightly. She sipped the beer, silently urging Debbie to continue, waiting her out, like always.

“Before…” Debbie sighed loudly and pressed a hand to her forehead before continuing. “Back then…I fucked up, Lou.”

Lou made a face of tacit agreement.

“I can’t do that again.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Lou leaned forward and whispered the words in Debbie’s ear. As she pulled away, her breath ghosted across Debbie’s cheek.  

Debbie met her eyes. They were so close now that Lou’s blue eyes were all she could see. Debbie knew Lou was waiting for her to make the first move. She was in limbo. She wanted nothing more than to take Lou to bed, to fall apart under her hands and her mouth, and yet she was afraid of the truths that would emerge if she did so, afraid that this would be just another explosion that would fade and die. Perhaps they would dance around each other for eternity, talking and teasing and scheming, but never able to say the words that truly mattered.

“Debbie, I swear to God, whatever is going on in your head, you have _got_ to let it go.” Lou tilted her head slightly to the side. Her expression was a strange combination of concerned and amused.

Debbie felt her mouth twitch into a slight smile in spite of herself. Lou was always a step ahead of everyone else, after all. She couldn’t expect her secrets to be safe from her. She let her eyes fall as she reached out and touched Lou’s left hand, which hung at her side. She ran one finger over the cufflink, feeling the etching of the casino’s logo under her fingers.

“I didn’t think you’d keep them this long,” she said, feeling compelled to explain the touch.

Lou shrugged. “I like them, and…” She paused, took a swig from the beer in her other hand, swallowed, and placed the nearly empty bottle onto the stage next to them. She seemed to be choosing her words very carefully. She moved the elbow resting on the stage so that her hand dangled a quarter of an inch from the fabric of Debbie’s dress near her hip. “…And I had to believe that what we had _mattered_.”

“It did.” Debbie interrupted the end of Lou’s sentence, looking back up at her quickly. “It _does._ I told you…I wasn’t lying, Lou. Every step of the way.”

“Yeah, but I don’t just mean jobs, and you know that.” Lou sounded sincere, which forced Debbie to listen. “And neither of us is going to go back to cheap Bingo cons now. So…” One of Lou’s long fingers brushed against Debbie’s hip. Even through her dress, the touch felt like fire.

Debbie found that her fingers had slid off Lou’s cufflink and onto the skin of her wrist. She could feel her pulse, beating as fast as her own under her fingertips. The rhythm steeled her nerves. She leaned forward and captured Lou’s mouth with hers. She felt Lou smirk for a moment before she returned the kiss, her fingers tightening on Debbie’s hip. Debbie tugged at Lou’s other wrist, pulling her closer. Lou didn’t seem to need much encouragement to press Debbie into the edge of the stage behind her. Debbie let her hands wander up Lou’s arms, over her shoulders, down her back. She slid her hands into the back pockets of Lou’s shorts and felt rather than heard a low moan against her lips. Lou’s fingers traced patterns over Debbie’s back, sending shivers through her whole body. Her hands came to rest in Debbie’s hair, tugging slightly at the nape of her neck. When she finally surfaced for air, Debbie tugged at Lou’s lower lip with her teeth before leaning her forehead into Lou’s with a soft exhale. Lou’s fingers moved to trace along Debbie’s jaw. She ran a thumb over Debbie’s lower lip, which tingled under her touch.

“How long…” Debbie began to speak, but her voice felt strange, so she cleared her throat and started over. “How long are you staying?” Lou was constantly looking for adventures the same way Debbie searched for jobs.

“Thought I might stick around for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_ , Jailbird,” Lou said, pulling away from their embrace for a moment to look Debbie in the eye.

“Well, I just…”

“Look, I know I always used to run off – on the bike, in that crummy car. But I actually like it here. I bought this place with actual money…”

“Which you earned from watering down vodka at your club,” Debbie reminded her.

“One of us has to make an honest living,” Lou responded with a dead-pan expression that warmed Debbie’s heart. Lou’s eyes softened as she tucked a strand of hair behind Debbie’s ear. “What about you, Debs?” she asked seriously, “are you staying?”

“The State of New York says I don’t have a lot of choice in the matter…”

Lou snorted with laughter. “Like that’s ever held you back.”

Debbie nodded and cracked a smile. “Yeah, I know, but I think I want to stay…you know…here.” She didn’t meet Lou’s eyes as she said it, still unsure whether the loft was still her home now that Lou had returned.

Lou noticed her coyness. “Jesus, Debbie,” she said with a laugh, “did you really think I was going to throw you out on the street?”

“I didn’t want to assume…”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Debbie met Lou’s eyes and noticed them twinkle slightly.

“I mean, you never got me that diamond, but I think you can stay.”

“Well, I had some, you see,” Debbie quipped back, pretending that the mention of diamonds with regard to Lou wasn’t loaded with potential. “But someone said it was better to liquidate our assets.”

“She sounds smart.”

“Brilliant, in fact.”

Lou nodded and moved away from Debbie slightly to lean against the stage next to her once more. The silence between them now was comfortable. Debbie felt calmer than she had since Lou had called last night. Something in their tone had shifted. They were actually talking; even if the banter continued on the surface, the deeper implications weren’t being swept under the rug anymore.

“I’m sorry, Lou.” Debbie let the words fall from her mouth in a barely audible whisper that nevertheless felt deafening in the echoing room.

“For what?” Lou was looking at her with some surprise.

“For leaving, for going off with Claude, for getting caught, for not telling you that I was going to frame him.” Debbie ticked off the deeds on her fingers. “I lied plenty during my parole hearing, but the one thing I said that was true was that I fell for the wrong person.”

Lou nodded slowly. Debbie reached out and took her hand. Lou’s fingers were warm.

“I…should’ve been with you all along,” Debbie finished in a rush, trying to get the words out before she lost her nerve and bottled them up again.

“We both had shit to work out,” Lou said firmly, squeezing Debbie’s hand in hers.

Debbie nodded. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

Lou pulled her into an embrace that felt less like an explosion and more like the sun on a warm summer morning, something lasting and real instead of brief and chaotic. Debbie took a deep breath and recognized the perfume Lou was wearing as the one she’d stolen for her from Bergdorf on the day she got out of prison. She pressed her lips to the pulse point on Lou’s neck and heard a sharp intake of breath.

“I want you.” Lou’s voice was even deeper than normal next to Debbie’s ear.

Debbie made a small noise of agreement against Lou’s neck.

Lou pulled back just enough to take Debbie’s hand and lead her towards the staircase. Debbie’s legs felt a little weak, but she concentrated on Lou’s warm hand and made it to the top of the staircase. She took one step onto the balcony that lined the upper level of the loft before Lou was crowding her against the wall opposite the staircase, bruising her lips against hers, moving both hands down Debbie’s sides, over her hips, and then back up her thighs. Debbie’s hands tangled in Lou’s freshly-washed hair, pulling her even closer, feeling the heat between them grow until her head spun and she had to release Lou’s lips to draw a shaky breath, which turned to a moan as Lou kissed her way down Debbie’s neck.

The heat lessened temporarily as Lou pulled Debbie from the wall and grabbed her hand once more, now leading her towards her bedroom two doors down from Debbie’s. Debbie fell back on the king-sized bed and gazed up at the woman before her. Lou’s hair stuck out at odd angles from her head, and yet this seemed to make her more sophisticated rather than less. Her eyes – normally icy blue – were darkened with need. Her lips were already a little swollen. Debbie bit her own lip, trying to remind herself that this was real because sometimes Lou seemed too good to be true. Lou paused at the end of the bed, looking down at Debbie. She began unbuttoning her shirt very slowly. She removed the cufflinks and placed them carefully in their box on her dresser. Letting the shirt fall gently from her shoulders, she started working on her shorts even more slowly, until Debbie decided it was too much, sat up on the edge of the bed, and unzipped them for her. She pushed them slowly down Lou’s legs and placed several kisses along the edge of Lou’s boy-short underwear. With one smooth movement, Lou reached behind her and unclasped her own bra, allowing it to fall onto Debbie’s head.

“Really?” Debbie said in mock displeasure, throwing the bra into a corner with a flick of her wrist.

Lou smirked and gestured for Debbie to move up the bed. Debbie leaned back on the pillows at the head of the bed and watched as Lou moved towards her, never taking her eyes from Debbie’s. Lou’s hands moved up Debbie’s legs at an agonizingly slow speed, bunching Debbie’s dress around her hips. Debbie parted her thighs hopefully, but Lou was taking her time, focusing on every inch of Debbie’s skin from her ankle to her hip. Every so often, she leaned over Debbie’s torso and kissed her deeply, palming Debbie’s breasts and moving the fabric of her dress aside every so often to graze Debbie’s nipples. Debbie arched her back into Lou, yearning for more contact.

“Lou…,” she said breathlessly as Lou’s hands moved ever higher up the inside of her thighs.

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

“Hm.” Lou continued to tease her, pulling Debbie’s left breast out of the bodice of her dress and taking it in her mouth. Debbie was speechless for a few minutes as Lou’s tongue worked over her nipple.

“Lou…,” she tried to say it more firmly this time, but her voice cracked and Lou smirked against her sternum, now shifting her attention to Debbie’s other breast. Debbie arched her back again, pressing harder into Lou’s mouth. Lou trailed one hand over the fabric still covering her stomach and hips, lazily drawing shapes.

“Please, Lou…”

“Tell me,” Lou whispered against the skin below Debbie’s ear.

“Need you,” Debbie gasped the words as Lou’s hand slipped lower, grazing the crease of her hip. “Inside. Now.” Lou placed an open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive skin below Debbie’s ear as she moved Debbie’s underwear to the side and slid two long fingers inside her.

“ _Fuck_ , Debs,” Lou murmured in her ear. “I guess you really _did_ miss me.”  

Debbie couldn’t manage a verbal response, just a low moan in agreement with Lou’s words. Warmth spread outwards to the tips of her fingers and toes as Lou began to move her fingers. Debbie pressed the crown of her head back into the pillows, arching her neck and letting her eyelids fall closed. She raised her hips to meet Lou’s hand as it ground against her. Lou moved faster, thrusting deeper. Debbie could no longer control the soft sounds of pleasure emanating from her throat. Lou bit down on the skin at the base of Debbie’s neck, right at the curve of her shoulder. Debbie’s fingers curled against Lou’s shoulder blades in response, nails digging in slightly.

“What do you need?” Lou’s voice was like a low rumble of thunder, driving Debbie closer to release. 

“Your mouth,” Debbie managed to gasp against Lou’s lips. She felt Lou’s smirk once again before warm heat and suction fastened over her. The flick of Lou’s tongue sent her over the edge, grasping at Lou’s hair as she shattered into a thousand pieces.

**

Lou’s fingers moved slower and slower, easing her back to reality. It was almost surprising to see the sun still shining outside, to hear the throaty call of a pigeon beyond the window, to realize that the world was still turning even though Lou had obviously made everything stand still for a moment. For _her_. Debbie let out a shaky sigh and opened her eyes to see Lou resting her cheek on Debbie’s thigh wearing the smuggest look she’d ever seen. They might have just stolen another couple hundred million dollars-worth of diamonds judging by her expression.

“You’re good,” Debbie said, running her fingers through Lou’s hair. 

Lou answered by raising her fingers to her mouth and licking them clean as Debbie watched.

Debbie shook her head and laughed softly. With everyone other than Lou, Debbie felt an overwhelming need to be in control of every second. She thrived on her ability to command a room, planned jobs around her knack of reading people and predicting their actions. But Lou was different. She could turn Debbie inside out without asking her to sacrifice even an ounce of who she was. She _knew_ her.

“You’re going to have to wash this,” Lou said, tugging at the hem of Debbie’s dress as she moved to lay next to her on the bed.

“Oh, you think so?”

“Did you manage to figure out the washing machine or have you been sending your washing to Tammy’s?”

“Fuck you.”

“I should hope so after that.”

Debbie turned over onto her stomach, reached back to unzip her dress, and wiggled out of the material with some difficulty. Lou didn’t help; she was still gazing at Debbie like she’d just won a marathon.

“Speaking of Tammy,” Debbie began after she managed to free herself of her dress and underwear and lay naked on the bed, “she’s going to have something to say about me _buying_ groceries today. That’s got to come up as a red flag on my account.”

“Already got a text, yeah,” Lou said, reaching to her bedside table for her phone and a stick of gum. “‘Debbie bought groceries. I think she missed you,’” Lou read aloud, chewing her gum loudly.

Debbie stared at the phone in Lou’s hand.

“What?” Lou asked, though something in her eyes made Debbie think she knew _what_.

“Why did you call me from a pay phone if you had _your_ phone?”

Lou sighed. “I wanted to know where you were at. You know, about Danny. I knew you wouldn’t answer an unknown number unless you thought it might be him. I mean, you sure as hell wouldn’t tell me how you’re feeling about it, so…”

Debbie was impressed in spite of her initial indignation. Lou was right, and there really wasn’t any use in trying to deny it. She nodded and squeezed Lou’s hand.

“My turn,” Lou said, propping herself up on her right elbow to face Debbie. “Why did _you_ buy groceries?”

Debbie let her eyes drift over Lou’s sharp features, her heart beating a little faster again. _Because I’m hopelessly in love with you_ , she thought. _Because my hands were shaking so much at the idea of seeing you that I listened to my parole officer._

“Bad day to get arrested,” Debbie said finally, hoping that Lou caught that there was more to it than that, but that she just couldn’t say it. Not yet.  

“Hm,” Lou said. Debbie saw her brow crease slightly. “Is that your way of telling me that you wanted to see me?”

“I guess.”

Lou nodded slowly and gave Debbie a smile that seemed to warm the entire room.

**

Much later, Debbie lay curled against Lou’s sleeping body, feeling more at peace than she had in a very long time. The evening had passed in a blur of good food and good sex. Debbie could still taste Lou on her lips and fingertips. The intimacy of it made her dizzy with pleasure. The humidity had broken that night with a storm that rolled in from the north, bringing cooler air that blew in through the open window to caress her skin. It was soothing after so many days of tropical heat, almost as soothing as Lou’s breath on the back of her neck. Debbie pulled the sheets close over both of them, willing time to stop forever. Her eyelids became heavy as she listened to the churned-up waves on the beach below, rolling on and on and on.


	3. You Burst on the Scene Already a Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, you burst on the scene  
> Already a legend  
> The unwashed phenomenon  
> The original vagabond  
> You strayed into my arms  
> And there you stayed  
> Temporarily lost at sea  
> The Madonna was yours for free  
> Yes, the girl on the half-shell  
> Could keep you unharmed….
> 
> (Lou)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos! <3

When she felt herself awaken the next morning, Lou kept her eyes closed, trying to hold onto yesterday for just a little while longer. Something was stirring deep in her chest that she hadn’t felt in a very long time, not since she and Debbie had parted ways all those years ago. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that they fell apart, though Lou knew Debbie blamed herself. Running cheap cons and trying to keep a relationship – or whatever they were – afloat at the same time was just too much for either of them to handle. Debbie had never been very good with her emotions, and while Lou had encouraged her by being as candid as she could, the stress had taken an emotional toll.

Debbie had a lot of baggage. She was constantly trying to live up to the Ocean name, obsessing over Danny’s prowess, constantly in competition with a brother who was never interested in competing. It got worse as the years passed. Because Debbie was good (one of the best, people said), but Danny was always at the top. Lou would come home to Debbie lying on the floor in the middle of their tiny studio apartment listening to the Bach _Toccata and Fugue in D Minor_ on repeat, the mania of it reflected in Debbie’s eyes. Lou had thrown out that record when Debbie went to jail. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to dispose of most of Debbie’s things, but that…She knew it had to go, for Debbie’s sake. It was too frantic, too macabre. Lou couldn’t count the number of times that she’d stopped the record, pulled Debbie off the floor, and talked her off the ledge of jobs that grew more and more desperate.

“You’ve got to find your own way, Debs,” Lou had told her. “You’re not Danny, and until you realize that, you’re never going to be better than him. And you could be. You _really_ could be.”

“One day, I’m going to run a job like nothing he can imagine,” Debbie would say, sometimes to Lou, but often to herself when she thought Lou wasn’t listening. But Lou was always listening.

Despite the caustic energy between them, their partnership (or whatever it was) had ended amicably enough. The decision to part ways seemed mutual. Lou wanted to travel before she lost all her savings to failed cons, and Debbie wanted something more elegant than Bingo scams. Lou had held her close and reminded her to call before she took off on her bike. She pretended that the tears in her eyes were just from the wind. When Debbie did call, more than four years later, it was from a New York precinct jail. She told Lou what happened with Claude Becker in a blank, unfeeling tone and asked her to help Danny collect her things.

“You can burn them, or whatever,” Debbie said on the phone, “I think I’ll be inside for a while, but I’ll be in touch.”

“I’m sorry, Debs.” It was the best that Lou could do, unsure of where they stood with each other.

“Yeah. Me too.” Then the line went dead.

Four years later, Lou got a message about a credit line, and though she was hesitant to set it up without knowing what it was for, something told her this job was different. She had smiled softly, called Danny, and asked him if he knew anything. He wouldn’t tell her anything specific, but just before he ended the call, he paused for a long moment.

“It’s the most brilliant thing I’ve ever heard, Lou,” he said finally.

“Did you tell her that?”

“Not exactly, but I think she already knows. Just make sure…” He trailed off.

“What?”

“Just make sure she doesn’t wind up back in prison.”

“That’s _her_ job, Danny. Not mine,” Lou had responded coldly. But then she sighed and said, “But yeah. I’ll try.” Of course, she would. Because she loved Debbie, and it had taken this long for her to figure it out, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to wait through another prison sentence. They had already wasted far too much time. 

**

Lou felt Debbie stir next to her, and she finally opened her eyes. The sight that greeted her was enough to make her fall in love all over again. Debbie was facing her, her lips parted slightly. Her expression was uncharacteristically relaxed. Her hair fell in waves across the side of her face. Lou reached out a hand and moved it gently over her shoulder, tracing her hairline with her fingers. Debbie smiled sleepily without opening her eyes. Lou thought she might cry as the emotions built in her chest. She tilted her head slightly, connecting her forehead to Debbie’s and gripping her shoulder with her left hand.

“I love you.” Lou hadn’t planned for the words to fall from her lips. They hung like jewels between them, weighted and costly. Debbie’s eyes snapped open in surprise. Lou saw confusion clouded by sleep, and for a second, she was afraid. Her heart beat in her throat. Perhaps Debbie wasn’t ready to hear it. But then the expression in Debbie’s eyes softened. Her eyes blinked shut again, and Lou heard her exhale slowly.  

“I love you, Lou.”

It was Lou’s turn to snap to attention with surprise. She’d never expected Debbie to say it back, not even if she really did propose and Debbie said yes. Not even in a wedding vow could Lou imagine those words from Debbie’s lips.

“What…” Lou said, her voice louder than she intended. She propped herself up on her elbow so as to look down at Debbie properly and make sure she wasn’t still asleep, that she’d actually understood the whispered confession and hadn’t just imagined it. Wishful thinking could be a real bitch sometimes.

Debbie sighed in an exasperated way. “ _What?_ You said it first, Lou.”

“You better not be pulling my leg here,” Lou said, half-kidding, but no longer trying to hide her concern at Debbie’s response.

“I’m not.” Debbie’s eyes were open again. She looked up at Lou with a hard look that pierced her heart.  

Lou sank back down onto the bed, staring at Debbie in amazement. Debbie shook her head, seemingly amused by the look on Lou’s face.

“I’m dead serious, baby,” Debbie said quietly, reaching out to run her fingers through Lou’s bangs.

Lou took her hand and kissed each of Debbie’s fingertips before sucking two fingers into her mouth. She saw Debbie’s eyes darken as she swirled her tongue over the pads of her fingers. Her eyelids fluttered closed. It was hard to process the fact that she could make Debbie Ocean look the way she did right now. There were very few things that could shatter Debbie’s façade of sophisticated composure, and Lou was one of them. Debbie pulled her fingers slowly from Lou’s mouth and trailed them down Lou’s neck, tracing patterns over her breasts and ghosting over her nipples. Lou leaned into the touch, desperate for _more_. Her hand ran up and down the exposed side of Debbie’s neck as Debbie’s fingers trailed lower into the warm wetness between Lou’s legs.

Lou saw the corners of Debbie’s mouth twitch. Her eyes were still closed, but the lines around them crinkled slightly with her smile, pleased at Lou’s evident arousal. Her fingers began to move in slow circles, and Lou lost track of time and space and sound. She bent her left knee to allow Debbie more access, pulling Debbie’s upper body closer to her, hands in her hair, hearing her own breath catch in her throat as Debbie’s fingers worked over her and into her. Debbie’s mouth found hers, swallowing the moans that escaped from Lou’s chest. And then Lou’s mind went blank and Debbie held her close with a tenderness that Lou had never experienced before.

**

Lou forced herself to get out of bed an hour later when her bladder began complaining. Debbie had fallen asleep again with her head on Lou’s chest, and Lou had tried to drop off, but had ended up just staring at Debbie, stroking her hair and trying to figure out how she never realized all those years ago that she loved her. In the bathroom, she looked carefully at herself in the mirror, surprised to recognize her reflection after what had been said this morning. She ran a finger over the mark Debbie had left on her shoulder, admiring how the purple and red contrasted with her skin. Her body felt lighter, her mind clearer. She wondered if Debbie felt the same, as though something that had been building inside her for a very long time had suddenly been released. Lou ran her fingers through her hair, twisting the strands back into place. She splashed cold water on her face and touched up her day-old make-up.

Back in the bedroom, Lou dug her bra from yesterday out of the corner where Debbie had thrown it and pulled it on, along with fresh underwear. As far as Lou could tell, Debbie was still sleeping soundly, but she moved very slowly to lie down next to her, placing a soft kiss to Debbie’s temple and breathing in the scent of her hair. Debbie hummed quietly and blinked her eyes open.

“Hi,” she said quietly, turning her head on the pillow to look at Lou. “What time is it?”

Lou reached behind her for her phone and showed Debbie the time: 9 am.

“You’ve got messages from Tammy,” Debbie said, gesturing vaguely to the screen as she pulled herself into a sitting position, swung her legs off the bed, and stretched.

Lou pulled a stick of gum from the drawer in her bedside table and fed it slowly into her mouth, wishing it were a cigarette, and reminding herself with a sigh that she was trying to quit. She scrolled through the messages from Tammy, all of which seemed to be along the lines of “Find out what Debbie’s up to. Why isn’t she planning a job?” Lou sighed and texted back: “She’s memorizing New York streets and seems good. Not worried.” Tammy tended to worry, but Lou didn’t blame her. She, too, couldn’t remember the last time Debbie hadn’t been planning a job; it was part of who she was, inherent to everything she did. But that had been before she went to prison and robbed the Met. Debbie had thirty-eight million dollars and had exacted her revenge on Claude. Maybe that was enough. For now.

“Want to come with me today?” Debbie’s voice interrupted Lou’s thoughts.

“Where?” Lou looked at her standing in the doorway to the bathroom. Her hair was brushed and her make-up was impeccable. She didn’t really need to ask the question; she would follow Debbie anywhere.

Debbie shrugged before choosing a bra and underwear from Lou’s drawers and pulling one of Lou’s shirts out of the closet. Her own clothes – after all – were a few rooms away, and she didn’t seem to want to make that trek.

“So, this is what you’ve been doing?” Lou asked, “Wandering the streets?”

“More fun with you, baby,” Debbie replied in a teasing, sing-song voice, now flipping through Lou’s limited selection of wide-leg slacks.  

Lou shook her head in mock exasperation. “Honey, you have thirty-eight million dollars.”

“And New York City is big place,” Debbie said with a tilt of her head, pausing in the act of pulling on a pair of steel-gray pants.

“Apart from the Metro Cards you bought for everyone – thanks for that, by the way – how much have you spent since the heist?”

“Hundred dollars,” Debbie responded without missing a beat as she turned to take her pick from Lou’s jewelry box.

Lou nodded a few times at Debbie’s back, though she knew she couldn’t see her. It wasn’t as if she was actually surprised. It had never been about the money for Debbie, not really. It had always been about whether she _could_ steal a couple hundred million dollars, not about actually obtaining said wealth.

“So, are you coming?” Debbie said turning back to the bed and adjusting one of Lou’s bracelets on her wrist above the watch from Danny.

“’Course,” Lou said, “Just give me a few.” She got up and made her way to the closet. When she turned back to face the room, she saw Debbie sitting on the bed, legs crossed, watching her. She smirked and popped the gum in her mouth as she pulled on a white, short sleeved shirt over her head and covered it with a dark red leather vest that had good pockets for shoplifting lipstick. She felt Debbie’s eyes travel up and down her bare legs as she took a pair of faded, skinny-leg jeans from a drawer and pulled them on. She turned to her jewelry and picked out a few necklaces and some earrings.

“Still waiting on that diamond?” Debbie spoke just as Lou was slipping a few rings onto her fingers.  

Dropping an emerald ring onto the bureau in surprise, Lou whipped around to look at Debbie, who was worrying the bedspread between two fingers and not looking at her. Her expression was impassive, but Lou could practically taste the tension running through Debbie’s body. First “I love you,” and now this. Debbie was on a roll, and Lou wasn’t about to be the one to discourage her. After all, “sharing” was not one of Debbie’s strong suits. All the same, she didn’t want to scare or intimidate Debbie with the extent of the thoughts running through her own mind. She settled on a reaction somewhere between the two. Lou stepped forward and sat down on the bed next to Debbie, whose chin was still tilted downwards watching her fingers, which had now stilled on the bedspread. Lou reached out with one finger and tipped Debbie’s chin upwards until their eyes met. She gave Debbie a long hard look and noted the surprise in Debbie’s own eyes. She hadn’t meant to be so forward, and yet her expression told Lou that there was some truth hidden behind the fences she was desperately trying to repair.

“Debs,” Lou said finally, lowering her voice to show Debbie that she knew how vulnerable this moment was. “When you ask me…” she paused and ran one finger along Debbie’s cheek bone before cupping the side of her face. “ _When_ you ask me…I’ll say yes.” She sat for another moment with her hand holding Debbie’s face. Debbie leaned into Lou’s hand, and Lou was impressed that she maintained their eye contact.

Finally, Debbie nodded and placed a soft kiss to Lou’s palm. Lou mirrored Debbie’s nod before getting up and pushing the large emerald ring she’d dropped onto the thumb of her left hand.

**

When they arrived in the kitchen, Debbie started the kettle. As they waited for it to boil, Lou wandered over to the maps on the stage, running her fingers over the top one, which showed about a dozen blocks of upper Manhattan. She ran her finger tips over the paper, noticing a few light pencil markings in Debbie’s familiar scrawl. She flipped a few of the maps over and noticed the pencil scrawling increase towards the bottom of the pile, accompanied by a few different colors of highlighter ink and some notes in red and black pen. Lou smiled and shook her head.

“I guess you’re not planning on returning those?” she asked, gesturing towards the stage as she made her way back to the kitchen where the kettle was singing.

“Nope,” Debbie said with a shake of her head and a smile. She picked up the kettle and poured their tea. Lou pulled milk out of the fridge for herself and added some to her cup. She enjoyed watching the white liquid churn as it mixed with the nutty-brown tea.

“Tammy’s worried about you,” Lou informed Debbie once they were seated across from each other at the poker table.

Debbie shrugged. “I know.”

“I told her not to worry, but I _am_ curious.”

Debbie shot her a questioning look over the rim of her cup.

Lou blew on her tea and took a sip before continuing. “I can’t remember a time when you weren’t planning a job. I tried this morning while you were sleeping. But you’ve always been planning something.”

Debbie gave Lou a very satisfied smile and sat back in her chair. “Nearly six years in prison is…a long time.”

Lou nodded encouragingly at her, urging her to go on.

“I planned the Met job, worked out all the kinks, and then…” Debbie shrugged and gestured at nothing. “I didn’t know what to do. So, I started reading…”

“Sherlock Holmes?” Lou interrupted her.

“Of course,” Debbie said with a smile. “And I realized that jobs aren’t…sprints.”

Lou tilted her head slightly, waiting for an explanation.

“Athletes don’t compete in the Olympics every day,” Debbie went on, “They train. Daily, or almost daily. They make their sport their life, but it’s only every four years that they’re on that big stage, taking on the world.”

Lou nodded slowly. “So, you’ve figured out that you can do bigger, better jobs less often instead of cheap-shit jobs every week?”

“Exactly.” Debbie sipped her tea and fixed Lou with a slightly challenging look.

“You’re a legend, you know that?”

“I’m working on it.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence, sipping tea and relishing how much cooler the loft felt today after the storms the night before. Lou was proud of Debbie for finally working out her place in all of this, proud of her for stepping out of Danny’s shadow at last. But Danny was gone now, and Lou knew his death still haunted her. _And six years in prison can’t have been easy, either_ , Lou thought. They finished their tea, and Debbie collected her keys and from a bowl by the door.

“Where are we headed today?” Lou asked, holding the door open for Debbie.

“Wait and see,” Debbie said over her shoulder. Lou rolled her eyes and followed her into the lot next door, keeping up with Debbie’s long strides as they made their way towards the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mention the Bach Toccata and Fugue in D Minor in this chapter, which is used in the film behind a lot of the Claude Becker sequences (in a remixed version). It's epic and dark and one of the cornerstones of Western classical music. Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ho9rZjlsyYY 
> 
> The Glenn Gould 1981 recording of the Goldberg Variations (from Chapter One) is hard to track down in a free format, but it is available on iTunes and his 1955 recording is available on Spotify.


	4. We Both Could Have Died Then and There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now I see you standing   
> With brown leaves falling all around   
> And snow in your hair   
> Now you're smiling out the window   
> Of that crummy hotel   
> Over Washington Square   
> Our breath comes out white clouds   
> Mingles and hangs in the air   
> Speaking strictly for me   
> We both could have died then and there…
> 
> (Lou)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not from New York. I have never been to New York. I'm fairly proficient with Google Maps.

It couldn’t have been a more beautiful day. The sun was warm on their faces as they walked down Broadway near Madison Square Park, dodging groups of confused tourists. In her younger days, Lou would’ve used this as an opportunity to steal a few wallets. She and Debbie had a system. Lou would slip a wallet into her pocket and pull out the bills; then she would pass the wallet to Debbie, who would place it back into the pocket or purse from whence it came. The entire exchange happened within the sleeves of over-sized fur coats. It was risky, but the thrill of it never got old, and replacing the wallets meant they were less likely to get caught. The feeling of pulling the crisp fresh-from-the-hotel-ATM notes out of a tourist’s wallet had its merits, but it was nothing to the feeling of brushing the soft skin of Debbie’s arm as she passed the prize. Looking back, the pick-pocketing was just as memorable as the more lucrative casino jobs they had run at the same time. It was intimate and private, something only she and Debbie shared.

It was easy to imagine them back into the past. Somehow, declaring her love to Debbie had given Lou permission to look at the memories again, something she had avoided ever since Debbie went to prison. It had been profoundly painful to think about her, and she hadn’t wanted to examine why that was or what it meant. But now – with Debbie beside her casually catching Lou’s fingers every so often in hers, pulling her down Fifth Avenue with a mere glance – it was easier to remember. Sepia-toned days passed in front of Lou’s eyes: Debbie browsing through records at an old music store in Brooklyn, her eyes completely enthralled behind her bangs; Debbie climbing onto the back of Lou’s motorcycle for the first time and clutching Lou’s waist with nervous fingers; Debbie walking through Central Park as brown autumn leaves and the winter’s first snow danced around them, explaining a plan for a con that Lou could no longer remember.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Debbie asked when they stopped at an Italian restaurant on 13th Street for lunch. Lou had been smiling – probably somewhat reminiscently – at Debbie as she talked, telling Lou about a few account details that Tammy was still trying to work out.  

Lou blinked. “Like what?”

Debbie gave an over exaggerated sigh and stared at Lou with a soppy expression that reminded her of Daphne Kluger in one of her trashy romantic comedy exploits.

Lou winced. “Point taken.” She took a piece of bread from the basket in the center of the table and used it to mop up some of the salad dressing on her plate. “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing today,” she continued with half a mouthful of bread. “I know you already know this area pretty well. Didn’t Claude live around here?”

Debbie gave her a satisfied smile. “Yes, he _did_ ,” Debbie replied, “You have a good memory.”

Lou furrowed her brow. “So?” Talking about Claude still made her stomach clench uncomfortably.

“His gallery is nearby, too. And he’s selling it. I mean, his people are selling it. The arrest really…fucked him over.” Lou could tell that Debbie was trying to sound matter-of-fact, but she was doing a poor job disguising just how pleased she was.

“You don’t say?” said Lou, words dripping with sarcasm.

The corners of Debbie’s mouth twitched.

“So, what are you saying? Do _you_ want the gallery?”

Debbie shook her head and moved her Caesar salad around with her fork.

“ _What_ then?”

Debbie paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “I think I just need to see that it’s actually…not his anymore.” She put the bit of salad in her mouth and chewed slowly.

Debbie’s tone was light, but Lou sensed a deeper meaning behind the words. Debbie knew better than anyone that prison wasn’t a bad place to plan a job. She was making sure that when Claude got out – whenever that was – he would have _nothing_ : no gallery, no friends, no chance. The pieces fell into place in Lou’s mind, and she tried not to roll her eyes. She wished Debbie would just let it go.

“What is it, Lou?” Debbie asked after many minutes of silence, Lou lost in her own misgivings.

“I just…” Lou paused, unsure of what she needed to say. “You know he’s not as smart as you, right?”

“I mean, yes,” Debbie said with a shrug that Lou took as a valiant attempt at humility.

“He’s not going to come after you again.” Lou leaned in with her elbows on the table, speaking quietly and trying to inject sincerity into every word.

“Maybe,” Debbie said with a small nod and a shrug.  

Lou narrowed her eyes, sensing an impending rebuttal.

At last, Debbie sighed and looked down at her hands, which were gripping the edge of the table a little more tightly than was natural. “I just need to make sure, Lou, because…” she faltered and Lou waited, hoping to God that the waiter didn’t come and interrupt them because she knew any change in the environment would make Debbie lose her nerve. “Because I can’t go back there. I told you – you don’t know what it’s like. I can’t go back…”

“To prison?” Lou prompted.  

“To…” Debbie looked up and seemed surprised to catch the searching look in Lou’s eyes staring right back at her. She looked alarmed for a moment, but then her eyes softened and deepened, and she opened her mouth. “To anywhere without…without _you._ ” The last two words were almost a whisper, and Lou sensed how difficult they were for Debbie so say.

Lou sat back in her chair. “Seriously?” She asked, just to be sure.

“Seriously.” Debbie held Lou’s gaze for a moment, and then returned to her salad.

Lou continued to watch her, already finished with the meal in front of her. Of the two of them, Lou had always been more emotionally open. She said what she felt, allowed herself love and anger and pain, tried to speak her own truth. But she couldn’t hold all of it on her own, and that had broken them before. She was hopeful this time around, though. Debbie wasn’t exactly breaking the barriers she’d built against her own feelings, but she was cutting windows in the walls, allowing Lou glimpses into her soul. Months ago, it had been small moments of sentimentality like this one that brought Lou on board for the Met job.  

“Let’s go,” Debbie said, once her plate was clear.

“Don’t we have to, you know, _pay_ for this?” Lou gestured at the table.

“Just the tip. I set the owner up with Tammy’s contact info ages ago,” Debbie said with a vague gesture towards the kitchen, pulling a twenty from her wallet and sliding it under one of their empty water glasses.   

“Of course, you did. And here -” Lou handed Deb’s money back to her, and slipped her own onto the table. “My treat today.”

“Feels like a date, baby,” Debbie whispered in her ear as she brushed past Lou on her way towards the door. Lou shivered as Debbie’s breath passed over her ear and neck. She turned and followed her back out onto the street.     

**

The Claude Becker Gallery was a few blocks west of Washington Square Park. Lou stood a little behind Debbie on the opposite sidewalk as they looked across at the opaque glass doors. A few people stopped to look at the “closed” sign taped lopsidedly on a window, but mostly the passersby rushed across the pavement without sparing a glance at the place that had caused Debbie – and herself – so much pain.

“I come here about once a week,” Debbie said at last without turning around to look at Lou, still gazing at the locked doors across the street. “The minute there’s a new name on that door, I’m going to make sure whoever it is – along with the rest of the art world – knows that Claude is a snake who should never work again.”

“You’re worried he’ll buy it back once he gets out of prison?” Lou asked.

“Yes.”

“You think they’ll listen to you?”

“Nine Ball’s helping cover my tracks. I’ll just be some anonymous whistle blower.”

Lou nodded. Debbie’s satisfaction at Claude’s defeat was infectious, and it wasn’t lost on Lou that this was Debbie’s way of showing her that she cared about staying out of prison. She took a step forward and took Debbie’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Debbie looked back at her over her shoulder with a half-smile and a slightly wistful expression.

“Let’s go home, Lou,” Debbie said quietly.

“You know, someday maybe you should talk to me about what happened,” Lou said in an offhand way as they turned back towards Washington Square.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been more than six years, Debs.” Lou said, stopping again to face Debbie on the sidewalk.

Debbie’s face was impassive, and Lou couldn’t tell what her eyes were doing behind her sunglasses.

“It’s…a long time. _Life_ happens, you know?” Lou said, trying to sound casual.

“Not in there it doesn’t,” Debbie said with a note of defeat in her voice.

“You say that, but look at what you just pulled off?”

“ _We_ ,” Debbie corrected her.

“Sure,” Lou conceded with a shrug, “but you came up with it, and something happened that – I don’t know – made it possible. Because you sure as hell weren’t making it work before.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Debbie turned and kept walking.

Lou ran her fingers through her hair before following her. She wanted Debbie to talk to her, she wanted to hear about what had made Debbie run off with Claude. She wanted to know what had happened in prison, the catalyst for the greatest jewel heist of the century. She wanted to know how Debbie felt when she got the news that Danny had died. She knew she had no right to the information, no right to even ask Debbie to tell her. But she wanted to know because she loved her, wanted to hold the pain _with_ her.

“Honey,” Lou said finally as they crossed the street into the park, knowing the pet name would grab Debbie’s attention. Debbie tilted her head slightly to show she was listening, though she didn’t slow down. “Do you remember when we were staying in that shitty hotel?” Lou gestured towards a newly restored building that was only partially visible to them between the trees. Debbie had to stop walking in order to see where Lou was pointing. The hotel was gone now (good riddance), replaced by a new office space for New York University.    

“Yeah,” Debbie said, sparing a quick glance for the direction in which Lou was pointing. “I remember.”

“You kept saying you wanted to be a legend, to beat Danny, all that old shit.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think like that anymore.”

“I _know_. Look at what you just pulled off!” Lou took Debbie’s hand again and held it tightly. “I fucking love you, Debs, and…” She didn’t want to scare Debbie away, but then again, showing Debbie her own vulnerability was the only way she could think of asking Debbie to talk to her, to open up. “And I don’t want what we had before. I want a _future_.”

“ _Lou_.” Debbie almost interrupted her, but Lou knew she had listened. Debbie took Lou’s other hand in hers. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Lou pursed her lips slightly, waiting for Debbie to continue.

“I’m not good at talking about it. I’m sorry.” Debbie squeezed her hands. “ _Really_. But I promise you. I want the same thing. And maybe someday…” Debbie paused, and moved her hands to the necklaces hanging from Lou’s neck, fiddling and adjusting affectionately. Lou caught her hands and stroked her thumbs over Debbie’s knuckles. “Someday I _will_ tell you how I got here. I will.” Debbie finished in a firm tone.   

In moments like this, there was a certain tension in Debbie’s jawline that betrayed her sincerity. Lou stared at her for almost a whole minute. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Debbie; she trusted her with her life. But they’d never put a label on their relationship before, never confessed love or devotion. They were fiercely loyal to one another, but it had mostly been under the guise of “best friends” (“best friends” who fucked each other sometimes, but still – _“friends”_ ). And then Debbie had gone to prison, and Lou had realized how deeply she had fallen for her. The idea that Debbie felt the same way was hard to accept, because it was exactly what Lou wanted. _Too good to be true_ , a voice in her head told her. And yet…Debbie didn’t lie, not to Lou, because she knew that Lou could tell. Sometimes she neglected to tell her the whole truth, kept certain pieces of information to herself (which drove Lou up the wall), but still…she was honest.  

“Okay,” Lou said finally, feeling an involuntary smile unfurling at the corners of her mouth. “Let’s go home.

**

The day was turning warmer by the time they made it back to the loft. Lou could feel sweat collecting at the back of her neck, and her mascara felt heavy on the corners of her eyes. The sun was still high in the sky with barely a cloud to block its rays. Lou missed the temperate coast of northern California, but the knowledge that she’d rather be here enduring a New York summer _with_ Debbie than in California _without_ her quickened Lou’s pulse and awakened pleasurable butterflies in her stomach.

As Debbie folded her sunglasses and pulled out her keys, Lou moved behind her and pressed her body against the door, pulling the left side of Debbie’s collar away from her skin slightly to expose one of the marks she had left last night. She pressed her mouth to a spot next to the bruise, using her teeth to make a second mark right next to the first one. She heard Debbie gasp and fumble her keys as she tilted her head to give Lou more space to work on her neck. Lou reached around Debbie and helped her guide the key into the keyhole, pushing them both through the door as it unlocked.

“Need a shower,” Debbie gasped as they stumbled over the threshold.

Lou hummed into her neck in agreement, placing the keys along with their sunglasses on the counter by the door. Her hands glided over Debbie’s sides, grazing her breasts and coming to rest at her hips. Debbie groaned and leaned her head back onto Lou’s shoulder. Lou’s fingers moved quickly to undo the buttons of Debbie’s pants, pushing the fabric down her thighs as they moved a few steps further into the loft.

“Come _on_.” Debbie pulled away from Lou slightly as she tugged her towards the stairs. She managed to step gracefully out of her pants as they fell around her ankles. Lou stopped briefly and Debbie turned to look at her with an expression of playful frustration. Lou slid her vest from her shoulders and pulled her T-shirt over her head very slowly, allowing the fabric to ruffle her hair as she did so. Debbie’s eyes were even darker than usual as she watched Lou toss the shirt away.

“What?” Lou asked faux-innocently, allowing one of her heavy, gold necklaces to pass through her fingers and fall back between her breasts.

Debbie smiled and shook her head at her, somehow managing to look amused and turned-on in the same moment. She turned and walked up the stairs. Lou smiled with satisfaction and followed her, unable to keep her eyes off the movement of Debbie’s hips under the thin fabric of the shirt that was slightly too big for her. It was Lou’s after all, and that thought sent another wave of desire through Lou’s body.

Lou followed Debbie into the bathroom off of her bedroom, shedding her jeans along the way. Standing next to each other in the mirror, Lou saw her own desire reflected back to her alongside Debbie’s. It was profound, so intimate as to be blinding. Lou saw Debbie’s eyes move backwards and forwards rapidly between their two reflections, unsure of where to look, overwhelmed. She moved her hand carefully across the hard edge of the sink and captured Debbie’s fingers in hers for a moment before she began to remove her jewelry, allowing each piece to clatter onto the counter. Debbie’s eyes focused and her expression calmed as she watched Lou in the mirror. As Lou unclasped her own bra and let it slip from her shoulders, Debbie’s lips parted slightly and Lou heard her breath. Her whole body was aching to touch Debbie but she nevertheless took her time removing her underwear and letting them fall to the floor.

Lou felt vulnerable, something she’d never allowed herself to explore with anyone other than Debbie. In the years after she and Debbie had parted ways, Lou had – subconsciously at first and then with increasing intention – never allowed anyone to see her completely naked. She had no shortage of lovers, but the women she took to bed were only exposed to those parts of Lou’s body and soul that she allowed them to see. No one ever stayed the night; Lou made sure of that, even before she realized she was in love with Debbie. Something told her to keep her walls intact, and it took her a long time to name that thing as _love_ for Deborah Ocean. Lou moved behind Debbie and met her eyes in the mirror. She unbuttoned Debbie’s shirt with steady fingers and pushed the soft material to the floor. Without taking her eyes from Debbie’s, she unclasped her bra with one hand and pushed her underwear off her hips with the other. Lou looked at both of them – _all_ of them – in the mirror and her heart swelled with pride at how far they both had come. Debbie’s eyes never strayed from Lou’s face.

“You’re beautiful,” Lou whispered in Debbie’s ear, her voice felt heavy as diamonds in her throat. Debbie’s hands covered hers as she cupped her breasts, holding her in place and grounding her in space and time for a brief pause.

Lou sighed into Debbie’s hair and then stepped gently away from her to start the shower, allowing the water to run cool and refreshing over her palm. Debbie followed her under the spray. The cool water felt icy on Lou’s flushed skin, and she noticed goose bumps rising on Debbie’s arms after a few seconds under the water. It was a welcome change from the July heat sticking like dust to their bodies. Lou pressed Debbie against the tile wall of the shower and felt her body relax into the pressure. She pushed her right thigh between Debbie’s legs, encountering heat and eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Debbie’s lungs. She rocked her hips on Lou’s thigh and her fingers raked up Lou’s back. Debbie tangled her fingers in Lou’s hair, pulling slightly. The momentary pain only wound Lou tighter. She pressed her mouth into Debbie’s, tugging and biting at her lips, dancing her tongue over flesh and teeth. She moved her hands between them and ran her thumbs over Debbie’s nipples, which were already hard from the shock of the cold water and the pressure of Lou’s skin. She rolled them in her fingers until Debbie’s breath was coming in gasps and Lou felt her grope for the faucet.

“Bed,” Debbie gasped into Lou’s mouth as she turned off the water. Lou stumbled after her into the bedroom. The hot, humid air enveloped them once more, but she hardly noticed, her mind consumed by watching water droplets run down Debbie’s back from her damp hair. Debbie turned to face her and Lou pushed her backwards onto the bed. Her hands slid over cool, wet skin followed by her tongue. She charted maps onto the soft skin of Debbie’s stomach with teeth and heat as her hands moved up the inside of Debbie’s thighs. Lou fastened her mouth over one of Debbie’s nipples and sucked hard, moving her tongue in circles that Debbie mirrored with her fingers at the nape of Lou’s neck. Suddenly, one of Debbie’s hands found hers and guided it upwards. Lou smirked against Debbie’s breast and took Debbie’s hint, slipping two fingers inside her. She raised her eyes to Debbie’s as she began to move her fingers. She moved her other hand to the side of Debbie’s face, brushing a thumb over the cheek bone to her lips. Debbie captured the pad of Lou’s thumb in her teeth and Lou felt herself gasp involuntarily at the sharp sensation that sent warmth down her spine.

“Look at me, Debbie.” Lou said it like a question, unsure if Debbie was ready to grant her request. But to Lou’s slight astonishment, Debbie’s eyes flew open and bored into Lou’s like arrows, acute and aware, even as she ground herself onto Lou’s hand. Lou couldn’t remember ever being this present to anything in her life. Vision, sound, scent, and touch ran together as Lou watched Debbie let go beneath her with her eyes still gazing into Lou’s. Lou kept up a steady rhythm of her fingers until Debbie’s whole body twitched at the slightest touch and her eyelids finally fluttered closed. Lou planted open-mouthed kisses over Debbie’s face and neck until she felt her stir back to reality beneath her.

“You better get up here, baby,” Debbie whispered without opening her eyes.

“I’m…right here, honey,” Lou replied, slightly nonplussed, still in a fog of satisfaction induced by Debbie’s pleasure.  

Debbie’s eyes opened just enough for Lou to see that she was rolling them. Debbie pinched Lou’s hip and slid her fingers around her thigh, tugging gently. With a sudden realization of Debbie’ intentions, Lou moved herself to straddle Debbie’s chest.

“You sure?” she asked, the heat building in her core. Her pulse raced.  

“Jesus, Lou, _yes._ ” Debbie pulled Lou’s hips over her face and reached her mouth up towards her. Lou saw stars as Debbie’s tongue licked into her. She braced her hands against the headboard of the bed, digging her knees into the mattress. Her thighs were already shaking slightly, overwhelmed by the heat and pressure of Debbie’s mouth. A cracked moan escaped from her mouth and she felt Debbie hum with satisfaction against her. She couldn’t begin to keep track of the subtle, shattering motions of Debbie’s fingers and tongue. She let everything fall away except for Debbie, dying in her arms only to awake alive again, and again.   


	5. I Need Some of that Vagueness Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now you're telling me  
> You're not nostalgic  
> Then give me another word for it  
> You who are so good with words  
> And at keeping things vague  
> 'Cause I need some of that vagueness now  
> It's all come back too clearly  
> Yes, I loved you dearly  
> And if you're offering me diamonds and rust  
> I've already paid.
> 
> (Debbie)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading this! It makes me so happy that people are enjoying it. <3

Debbie’s head was spinning. Lou dozed next to her in the late afternoon light, her limbs draped haphazardly across the sheets. She reached out a hand and brushed Lou’s bangs out of her eyes, almost surprised to find that she could touch her, that she wasn’t a figment of her own overactive imagination. The last twenty-four hours seemed to contain at least a year’s worth of events. She’d never planned to tell Lou she loved her, not _yet_ , not before she could assess every inch of how Lou would respond and establish contingency plans for every possible outcome. But then again, she never would’ve been able to predict that Lou would say it first. Not ever. Lou’s words that morning had sent a warmth through her body like nothing she’d ever experienced.

In her preoccupied state, bringing Lou to Claude’s gallery had been the only way she could think of showing her that she really, _truly_ wasn’t interested in unnecessary risks. Now, staring at Lou’s peaceful face, she felt that the gesture had lacked clarity. When it came down to it, Debbie wasn’t interested in using the past to prove her love to Lou. She wanted a _future_ ; she wanted _forever_. Lou had understood why they were there, Debbie knew, but bringing her there had also led to the prospect of difficult questions that Debbie wasn’t ready to answer.

Feeling restless, Debbie turned over and stood up. She walked quietly across the room, careful not to disturb the angular pile of limbs that was Lou, and descended onto the main floor of the loft, smiling slightly at the discarded clothing she encountered along the way. She pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap before walking across the room to pick up _The Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_ from where it lay next to Lou’s grotesque skull lamp on the end table by the sofa.

Back upstairs, Debbie placed the glass of water very quietly on the bedside table and settled herself next to Lou with great care. Lou didn’t wake, but she moved herself closer to Debbie’s body. Her nose nudged her hip and Debbie shivered at the feeling of Lou’s breath against her skin. Debbie opened the well-worn book at random: _His Last Bow._

 _“It was nine o’clock at night upon the second of August – the most terrible August in the history of the world. One might have thought already that God’s curse hung heavy over a degenerate world, for there was an awesome hush and a feeling of vague expectancy in the sultry stagnant air…_ ”

Debbie lost herself in the words, feeling World War I inch closer to Holmes and Watson. The pages flew by under her fingers; she knew the story like the back of her hand. Within an hour she was nearing the end.

 _“Good old Watson! You are the one fixed point in a changing age. There’s an east wind coming all the same, such a wind as never blew on England yet. It will be cold and bitter, Watson and a good many of us may wither before its blast. But it’s God’s own wind none the less, and a cleaner,_ _better, stronger land will lie in the sunshine when the storm has cleared…_ ”

A lump formed in Debbie’s throat as she finished the story and closed the book. She looked at Lou, the one fixed point in Debbie’s own world. Prison had enveloped her like her own, personal East Wind. It wasn’t world-changing or dramatic; it was utterly insignificant and banal. And yet, it _had_ changed her, because on a random, perfectly ordinary day of solitary confinement, Debbie sat straight up in bed with the realization that she needed Lou back in her life.   

The first few months inside had been jarring, but the Ocean name carried a certain amount of weight. Most people left her alone, and she had no problem living within her own head; she had more than enough regret and self-loathing to ponder. Though she was angry at Claude, she mostly blamed herself, and more than anything she felt ashamed. Danny’s face often swam before her eyes looking disappointed, and that was a worse punishment than anything prison had to offer. She channeled her anger towards her imagination’s version of Danny, dreaming up desperate bank heist schemes that always culminated in boredom, elaborating on weak excuses for why she’d ended up here. Then one day, she couldn’t take the noise around her anymore. She collapsed in on herself, became a ghost that haunted the corner of the prison yard and the cafeteria. Other inmates avoided her, and eventually the warden became convinced that she was unstable. Twenty-four hours later, she was in solitary confinement.

For a while, her mind continued to cycle through anger at Claude, all-consuming shame, and bullshit excuses. Then, one day, it didn’t. Without realizing it, Debbie had slowly been replaying the last few years backwards in her head, watching Claude’s betrayal in reverse, populating the memories with visions of Danny who looked on with disapproving eyes. And all at once it wasn’t Danny anymore: Lou stood before her in black motorcycle jacket with her helmet under her arm, about to take off down the road and leave Debbie behind. The vision of Lou didn’t say anything; she just smiled a bit sadly, but somehow Debbie understood. She opened her eyes, sat up, and stared blankly at the opposite wall of her cell. _Well_ , Debbie thought a few minutes later as she lay back down on the hard bed, _that’s step one. Lou is step one._ She didn’t even know what the job would be yet, but the next day she asked for some paper and a pen and scrawled “1. Be FF?” at the top of the first draft of her list. Everything snowballed from there, and the pieces fell into place. Lou was the catalyst all along.

**

Debbie looked down at Lou’s relaxed face. She wasn’t deeply asleep, but she was peaceful, curled against Debbie’s hip as though she had always belonged there. And maybe she had. How had it taken this long to realize just how far she’d fallen for Lou? Lou was all leather and motorcycles and jewelry hanging from her neck like armor. She was cheekbones sharp enough to cut like a knife, and she was silver eye makeup behind platinum blonde hair. She was honest, and she was loyal, and she told Debbie what she wanted. She had a way of being both intimidating and intoxicating that drew people to her like moths to a flame. It was what made her such a useful partner in crime – all those connections. Of course, it had worked on Debbie, too, pulling her into place at Lou’s side nearly twenty-five years ago at a grimy dive bar in the Bronx. _The one fixed point in a changing age_ , Debbie thought, _the one fixed point…always._

Lou’s eyes blinked open as Debbie watched her, and Debbie combed her fingers through Lou’s hair as she woke. She checked the time on Danny’s watch: 6:00 pm. Maybe they would order food for dinner, or maybe she could convince Lou to cook. These were the kinds of concerns she wanted, Debbie realized. Oh, there would be jobs; she knew that. But for now, she just wanted a _life_. Not a simple one, but a _real_ one. The past didn’t matter anymore; it felt as vague as a dream. But Lou was solid.

“Hey, Jailbird.” Lou’s voice was rusty with sleep.

“Hi,” Debbie said in a soft voice.

“I think you just about killed me that time,” Lou groaned as she sat up next to Debbie and reached over to pull a stick of gum from her bedside table.

Debbie felt color rise in her cheeks and she looked away, taking a few sips of water from the glass beside her. Lou’s hand found Debbie’s and squeezed it tightly.

“Hungry?” Lou asked after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“Yeah,” Debbie replied, looking over at her, “I am.”

Lou patted Debbie’s hand and pulled herself off the bed towards her dresser. “Come on,” she said, “I’ll make something.” She tossed a T-shirt in Debbie’s direction and pulled a plaid robe around her own shoulders, tying it loosely enough to allow very little to the imagination. Debbie pulled on the T-shirt along with a pair of boxers from Lou’s drawer.

“You’re going to have to start wearing your own clothes again at some point,” Lou said over her shoulder as she led the way out into the hall, around the corner of the balcony, and down the steep, metal stairway.

“Why? You’ve been borrowing my shit for years when all I had were orange jumpsuits. It’s only fair.”

“So, is this the new job? Stealing my underwear?” Lou shot back with a smirk. 

“Yeah, well, I told you,” Debbie said with mock sincerity. “I’ve got to work my way back up to something big.”

Lou gave a snort of laughter and opened the refrigerator to pull out ingredients for a meal. Debbie sat at the counter in the kitchen and watched her. Debbie had told Lou that the Met heist would be impossible without her, but she hadn’t told her the deeper truth, mostly because she hadn’t really articulated it to herself until a few minutes ago. Lou was her muse. All at once there were words for what she had experienced when the Met job began to take shape in her head: it was revelation; it was inspiration; it was falling in love. Was that what Lou wanted to hear? She hadn’t asked Debbie anything, but the questions were clear nonetheless: _How’d you think of it? Why did you come back to me?_ And, _what about Danny?_

“I’ll give you a hundred grand for your thoughts, Ocean.” Lou’s voice cut across the imaginary Lou in Debbie’s head.

Debbie stretched her neck one way and then the other before responding. “I don’t know what changed.”

“What?” Lou paused with a cover in her hand hovering over the pot of water she’d just placed on the stove.

“You asked me,” Debbie said firmly, knowing that if she didn’t speak now, she might never pluck up the nerve.

“I did,” Lou said. She set the cover on the pot, and walked around the counter to sit next to Debbie on one of the mismatched stools. She reached out and tucked a long strand of dark hair behind Debbie’s ear.

“I don’t know what changed,” Debbie said again, feeling both courage and anxiety build in her chest. She could do this. Even Sherlock Holmes told Dr. Watson that he was his fixed point in the oncoming storm, and if Sherlock Holmes could do it… “I can’t remember what happened that snapped me out of it or made me realize I needed to change. Maybe it was just going to prison in general that got the ball rolling.” Debbie sighed before continuing. “Anyway, what I _do_ remember,” she said after a moment, “is that one day in solitary your face appeared in my mind and I knew that whatever I did next, it had to be with you. Every…”

“…Step of the way,” Lou finished Debbie’s sentence with a half-smile. “Yeah. I remember.”  

Debbie nodded and met Lou’s eyes. “It was _you_ who got me here, baby.”

The words took a moment to sink in, and Debbie twisted her fingers together nervously. Lou’s brow knitted for a moment, but her eyes were soft, and as Debbie watched they seemed to grow brighter as a they moistened. Lou blinked a few times and ran her fingers through her hair.

“You always said that _I_ was the one who was good with words,” Lou said after a moment, her voice shook slightly on the verge of breaking. “But that…”

“Hey,” Debbie said, reaching for her hand, “It was you. It _is_ you. I know what I’m good at, and it’s not this.”

“You say that, and yet…” Lou gestured to a tear the clung to her eyelash.

“I mean, don’t get used to it,” Debbie said, self-deprecatingly. “It took me until two days ago to really realize that anything other than planning a job, running a job, and succeeding at a job could make me happy. You know, in the long term.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Debbie said firmly. “But don’t tell Tammy yet. I can’t handle how smug she’ll be. It was bad enough on the phone yesterday morning.”

Lou winced sympathetically. “Not a word.” She got up from her stool and brushed past Debbie, her fingers trailing over her back. The water on the stove was boiling. Lou shook some noodles into the pot and dug in the freezer for some left-over sauce she’d made before she left for California. Debbie watched her and marveled at her own contentment. This was domestic and normal, something she would’ve called “simple” in a scathing way mere months ago. But now she knew it was anything but simple. Love was every emotion at once, like the temperamental _Goldberg_ _Variations_ she knew so well: complex, dynamic, and astounding.

**

“Thanks for dinner,” Debbie said as she piled spaghetti on her plate.

Lou hummed an unintelligible response as she licked sauce off a spoon.

They brought their plates over to the poker table. Lou grabbed a mostly-full bottle of red wine and some glasses before sitting down. She poured the wine and offered Debbie a glass. Debbie made to take a sip but stopped as Lou held up a finger.

“Wait,” Lou said with a smile, “we should toast to something!”

Debbie tilted her head, waiting for Lou to continue.

“To us,” Lou said quietly, leaning forward to knock her glass against Debbie’s with a soft _clink_. “To everything we’ve…”  

But Debbie stopped her with a shake of her head, her eyes never leaving Lou’s face.  

“What?” Lou said with a note of confusion in her voice, lowering her glass slightly.   

“To the future,” Debbie said softly, leaning forward with a smile that she felt at the corners of her eyes.

Lou looked at her seriously for a moment. Then she nodded, and Debbie saw a reflection of her own conviction in Lou’s eyes. “Yeah, you’re right,” Lou said firmly, “To building something new.”

“Together,” Debbie added and touched her glass to Lou’s once more.

**

Soft evening light poured into the loft through the high windows, casting shadows of the panes onto Debbie’s maps spread across the floor. She was concentrating on a strange network of alleyways that lay just to the northwest of Yankee Stadium. Lou was fiddling with the turntable by the window, flipping through her records – _their_ records – with an occasional reminiscent smile. Debbie traced her finger along 164th Street adding tiny dots of neon highlighter ink at the entrance of each alleyway, retconning a strange connect-the-dots game. She closed her eyes and tried to picture each alley: the blue-dotted one had a fire escape with a ladder that hadn’t been inspected in at least thirty years, the yellow-marked alley was wider than the others, the orange one…She opened her eyes when she couldn’t quite call up an image of the orange alleyway and looked back at the map. That was the one that snaked behind the liquor store. She scrawled “liquor store” in tiny red letters next to the orange dot. Lou finally chose a record and Debbie looked up as she placed the needle. She vaguely recognized the opening bars, but it sounded older than Lou’s usual fare, as though the record itself was nearing the end of its life.

“What is this?” Debbie asked, looking back at her map.

Lou sighed in a slightly exasperated way that made Debbie grin down at the streets before her. “It’s Dylan,” Lou said finally, as though Debbie should’ve known. “‘Like a Rolling Stone,’ 1965. He got in a lot of shit for this early electric stuff, you know?” Lou threw herself onto the couch and Debbie felt her eyes sweep over the maps on the floor. 

Debbie frowned slightly as she looked down at the map, listening and considering. “I think I like the older stuff better.”

Lou snorted with laughter. “Well, you would. _Stravinsky_ is too modern for you.”

Debbie looked up briefly and caught Lou’s eye with a smile. “You know me too well.”

“Maybe.”

Debbie turned back to her marked-up corner of the Bronx and squeezed the words “Like a Rolling Stone” along Ogden Avenue in black ink.

“Where’d you find the vinyl?” Debbie asked after a minute or so.

“Stole it ages ago,” Lou replied. “Thought I could maybe sell it; people love that vintage stuff. Decided I liked it too much so I kept it.” She shrugged and lapsed into silence.

The record spun to silence, but Lou didn’t budge from the couch. Debbie could hear the soft sound of her breathing in the quiet. Debbie connected the alleys between Ogden and Nelson with light pencil marks. The pencil shapes recalled a ring with a large, rough-cut stone: a vaguely circular shape topped with a smaller, angular one. Debbie wrote “ring” in pencil in the middle. She paused then and remembered Lou’s words that morning: “ _When you ask me, I’ll say yes.”_

Debbie got up, stretched, and walked to where Lou lay sprawled on the couch, her head draped over the armrest. She reached down and twisted a few strands of platinum blonde hair around her fingers, brushing her fingers against Lou’s forehead as she did so. Lou leaned into the touch and looked up at Debbie with the same smitten expression that Debbie had teased her about over lunch. _I’ll say yes_. Lou’s eyes seemed to say the words over and over again. Debbie felt the corners of her mouth flick upwards into a smile. _The game is afoot, Miller_ , she thought in spite of herself, and leaned down to capture Lou’s mouth with hers.   

**

Debbie knew enough about jewelry (too much, probably) and enough about Lou’s taste to know that, as much as diamonds came up as a private joke between them, Lou’s style was a little less traditional. She tended towards the Elizabeth Taylor side of “blingy”, but her pieces were as sentimental as they were plentiful. Debbie wasn’t fooled about the Toussaint and the Crown Jewels piquing Lou’s interest: for one thing, she’d been interested before that, probably since Debbie got her the message about the credit line; and for another, the money was always the primary target. Diamonds felt like a youthful fairy tale, and that wasn’t Lou at all. It never had been.

Debbie called Amita the next evening while Lou was at her club. Debbie had garbled a bullshit excuse about needing to learn more about Staten Island and promised to drop by around 10:30 pm. Lou had pinched Debbie’s hip and rolled her eyes as she left.

“Debbie?” Amita answered the phone with a note of confusion in her voice.

“Hi. You back in New York?” Debbie got right to it.

“Um…yes,” Amita replied, “Is this about…?”

“No,” Debbie said reassuringly, “No. I need some…advice.”

“Advice.” Amita sounded even more confused.

“Can you drop by?”

“Yeah, I can be there in an hour.” Debbie could hear the interest in Amita’s voice.

“See you then.” Debbie ended the call before the questions began and returned to the couch. She stared unseeingly at the rafters above her head, thinking of everything and of nothing at all, until she heard a soft knock on the door.

“What’s this about, Debbie?” Amita asked when they were both seated at the counter with bottles of beer.

For answer, Debbie slid her iPad over to Amita. The screen showed an array of different types of opals. Amita frowned at the picture and shook her head.

“I don’t know what I’m looking at,” Amita said with a half-amused, half-bewildered tone of voice. “Is this about a job, ‘cause honestly I’m set for a while.”

“Not exactly,” Debbie sighed. She had hoped Amita would be quicker on the up-take. She wasn’t sure she was ready to say the words aloud.

“Okay.” Amita tried a different tactic. “Are you asking which type of stone I recommend?”

“Yes.”

“What’s it for?” Amita asked now bent over the screen, zooming in on the various crystals. She looked up when her question was met with silence.

Debbie fiddled with one of her own rings and tried to decide what to say. Amita’s eyes glanced down at Debbie’s rapidly moving fingers and then back up to her face. Debbie saw the pieces click into place in Amita’s mind as her expression shifted ever so slightly to one of amused satisfaction.

“It’s for Lou, isn’t it?” Amita asked with a raised eyebrow and a smile.

Debbie nodded and found that it was difficult to meet Amita’s eyes. Intent on remaining in control, she bent over the image of the opals. “So, I was thinking of a large N9 stone in the center, flanked by N4 boulder opals on either side,” Debbie said, indicating an iridescent white gem and a glittery blue one further down the page.

Amita nodded as Debbie elaborated on what she had in mind, steering Debbie towards the stones with higher brilliance. “They stand out more, and Lou has so many nice pieces to begin with,” Amita said, and then continued after a pause, “I know you want it to be special.”

Debbie couldn’t contain the slightly self-indulgent smile that spread across her face.

“What about the setting?” Amita asked once they’d settled on gems.

“Gold, of course. But the design is where you come in. Can you send me a few ideas?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Amita said. “I can text you some stuff tomorrow.” She took a last swig from her beer bottle and placed it back on the counter.

“Thanks,” Debbie said, “and just so you know, I _am_ going to pay you for this.”

“You’d better,” Amita said with a grin as she got up to leave. At the door, she paused and looked across the room at Debbie, who was desperately trying to contort her face into something that seemed casual and laissez-faire. “I’m happy for you, Debbie,” Amita said sincerely.

Debbie nodded and hid her smile by downing the rest of her drink.

**

“You’re looking pleased with yourself,” Lou said when Debbie found her sitting at the club’s bar a little before 11:00 pm.

“Staten Island’s a cinch,” Debbie said with a shrug, careful to keep her voice even.

Lou ordered Debbie a drink and reached out to brush a strand of hair off of Debbie’s forehead. “You look good,” she said, giving Debbie’s clothes a once-over and allowing her glance to linger on the v-cut neckline of Debbie’s button-up shirt. Debbie’s skin tingled under her gaze.

“You too,” Debbie said, reaching out to run a finger over Lou’s leather-clad thigh.

Lou smiled against her glass and gave Debbie a piercing look.

“How late do you have to stay?” Debbie tried to keep a note of suggestion out of her voice, but she was already wishing they were alone and that she already had a ring in her pocket. She took a sip of her beer as soon as it was placed in front of her.

“About an hour.” Lou shrugged. “They manage without me, more or less.” Lou looked sideways at her. “Wanna dance, Ocean?” She said in a voice that dripped with mischievous sarcasm.

Debbie shook her head with what she hoped was an incredulous and unphased expression, though her heart was beating hard in time with the music.

Lou slid off her stool and leaned against the bar close to Debbie, brushing her arm with hers. “Can you last that long?” Lou asked in a voice low enough to be inaudible to anyone but Debbie.

“Not if you keep talking like that.”

“Like what?” Lou said in the same voice.

Debbie rolled her eyes and felt her face growing warm. She knew Lou could feel the heat building between them. “You’re unbelievable,” she breathed into Lou’s ear.

“I know.”

The music thudded on, and Debbie kept reminding herself to breathe as she leaned into Lou and basked in her gaze. Lou brushed a cunning hand against her every so often, sending shivers down Debbie’s spine. It was as if she knew exactly how much Debbie could take, tempering her movements and her looks in a particular measure that stoked a fire in Debbie’s soul until she was burning, until she might burst. This was all she wanted. Not diamonds, not old dreams on vinyl and rusty memories that creaked when stirred by the wind. She’d been through enough, and now Lou was all she could see in front of her, a perpetual sunrise. And then:

“Home?” Lou murmured in Debbie’s ear, her breath almost too much to bear against the inferno in Debbie’s skin.

“God, _yes._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sherlock Holmes quotes are from the last Chapter of His Last Bow (which is also titled "His Last Bow"), the only Holmes story (I think) told in the third person instead of from Watson's first-person. Also, you can get the Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes e-book for $0.50 on Amazon right now! 
> 
> The East Wind is a trope that appears in a lot of literature. The wikipedia page does a good job explaining it, so check it out if you're a book-geek like me! :) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_wind 
> 
> Like A Rolling Stone (1965) by Bob Dylan was the first single he released with his new (and highly controversial) electric sound. Joan Baez was referencing this part of Dylan's life (supposedly) in Diamonds and Rust, so that's mostly why I included this. Somewhat coincidentally, this is also the Dylan persona that Cate Blanchett played in I'm Not There (2007), but that's more of an Easter egg than anything else. It's a great song, and yeah, he *is* good with words. :) Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IwOfCgkyEj0


	6. Opals and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four weeks later
> 
> (Lou)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. 
> 
> <3

“What’s the date today?”

Lou blinked her eyes open to find Debbie’s face an inch from her own. She didn’t answer right away, choosing instead to pull Debbie into a kiss. She heard a soft sound of surprise from Debbie’s throat as Lou’s hand stroked the back of her neck; Lou felt her shiver, though the air in the room was warm.

“Seriously,” Debbie said breathlessly a few minutes later, pulling away from Lou’s mouth for a moment and sweeping her long brown hair back from her face. “What’s today?”

Lou smirked at her. “The second of August. Thursday. Why?”

Debbie smiled in a satisfied way that made Lou feel she was missing something. “Oh, nothing,” Debbie said innocently. She pushed herself off of Lou and reached for Danny’s watch on her bedside table, fastened it around her wrist, and got out of bed.  

“Will I find out?” Lou asked, propping herself up on her elbows and fixing Debbie with what she hoped was a slightly penetrating stare. She tilted her head ever so slightly to the right.

Debbie smiled and leaned over to whisper against Lou’s mouth, “You will.”

**

By the time Lou made her way downstairs, Debbie was nowhere to be found. This was fairly typical: Debbie was still deep into her study of New York’s streets, and though Lou tagged along sometimes (for instance, she had gone with Debbie to see Rose’s recently-purchased showroom), she was usually more than content to have the loft to herself for a few hours. She still had a job after all, and the club didn’t run itself. Lately however, Lou had noticed a shift in Debbie. She often caught her staring in one place on a map with her pencil poised over the paper, motionless with a soft smile on her face. Another time Debbie had been reading on the couch, but Lou hadn’t heard more than a few pages turn over the course of an hour, and Debbie could read faster than anyone she knew. A few times, Lou had come home to find Debbie manically and mechanically cleaning the loft as the _Goldberg_ s played loudly on the turntable. Debbie didn’t clean much of anything without an ulterior motive; more often than not, it was how she managed to keep her head clear to plan a job.

Day by day, Lou became increasingly certain that Debbie had landed on some idea and was waiting to share it with Lou until all of the preliminary plans were in place. For all of Debbie’s talk of taking things slow, of working up to something big in a few years’ time, Lou knew she needed cons as much as she needed food. Lou didn’t press her; she knew she’d find out when Debbie was ready. And perhaps today was the day. Lou could feel a pleasant tension in the air. She sipped her cup of tea very slowly, leaning her elbows against the counter and letting her eyes wander across the windows on the other side of the room. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this content.

As she poured a second cup of tea, Lou heard her phone buzz on the counter. She glanced over at it and was somewhat surprised to see a text from Debbie: “You can take tonight off, right?” Lou hesitated for a moment, considered asking why, but then decided to just send her “yes” with nothing attached. Debbie didn’t need additional prodding, and talking in person had always been better for them. Whatever Debbie was planning, it was sure to be brilliant, and Lou felt her heart rate increase slightly with anticipation.

**

Debbie breezed into the loft a little after 1:00 pm with arms full of bags. Lou swung her legs off the couch and rose to greet her with a brief, one-armed hug and a brush of her lips against Debbie’s temple.

“What’s all this?” She asked, gesturing at the piles of food and booze on the counter.

“We’re having people over tomorrow.” Debbie said, already busying herself with putting things away in the refrigerator.

“Who?” Lou asked, moving to help her.

“The usual crowd.”

“You mean the Met crowd?”

“Yeah, you know, just thought it might be good to…check-in.” Something in Debbie’s tone told Lou there was more to it than that.

“You’re planning something.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Debbie said in a so-what-if-I-am voice that Lou knew well. “But that’s not the point.”

Lou frowned at her and said nothing.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Debbie said, turning back to her.

“What? This is just my face.”

“It’s doing a thing.”

Lou laughed in spite of herself. “You like keeping me hanging, don’t you?”

“Yes, glad you figured that out.” Debbie handed her two bottles of wine.

Lou nodded at her and felt a smirk dash across her face as she took the bottles from Debbie and stored them in the liquor cabinet in the corner. As she closed the glass-fronted door, Debbie’s arms wrapped around her waist. Everything seemed to go still, the sense of expectation becoming inconsequential as Debbie’s lips pressed against her shoulder over the thin fabric of her shirt. Lou exhaled and relaxed into Debbie’s arms. She could see the vague outline of their bodies in the reflection on the liquor cabinet door, fitting against each other perfectly, smoothing the hard edges they’d each developed against the rest of the world.

“It was always you, Debbie,” Lou muttered as she leaned her head against Debbie’s where it rested on her shoulder. Debbie’s arms tightened around her, protective and _close_.

“I know.”

“There were others, you know, when you were in prison. After we…” Lou didn’t know why she was telling Debbie this, but the words spilling out of her were beyond her control, as they had been on the beach a few days before the Met Gala. Something about seeing herself and Debbie wrapped up in one another, reflected in grimy panes of glass, made the words flow. Her hands shook slightly as she folded her own arms over Debbie’s, holding her in place around her.

The sound of Debbie’s sigh was lost against the skin of Lou’s neck.

“But it was never like this,” Lou continued doggedly, determined to share all of what she was thinking now that she’d started. She twisted in Debbie’s arms so she could see her eyes and share her breath. “I didn’t let them…” She leaned her forehead against Debbie’s and allowed the words to die.

“I know,” Debbie said again, holding Lou in an unbreakable grip.

“I _love_ you, Debbie.” Lou framed Debbie’s face in her trembling hands.

“It’s always been different with you, baby,” Debbie whispered, “ _better_ with you.” She pressed a brief, warm kiss to the corner of Lou’s mouth. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Lou muttered, “ _Yeah_ , of course. I’m okay.” She pulled Debbie against her with one hand on the back of her head and the other running up and down her back.

“Tammy told me to think of other things that make me happy.” Debbie’s voice was muffled against Lou’s collarbone.

“What?” Lou pulled out of their embrace to hold Debbie at arm’s length.

“After you left for California,” Debbie explained, “I was giving her shit for being a soccer mom and trying to get her to go rob a gas station, and she asked me if I’d ever thought that more than one thing can make me happy.”

“And what did you say?” Lou asked, brushing past Debbie towards the refrigerator and taking out two bottles of beer. She opened them both and passed one to Debbie across the counter.

“I said no.” Debbie smirked.

“Of course, you did.”

“Then I told her it made my face hurt to try.”

Lou snorted with laughter and raised her eyebrows at Debbie. “Do you think she…?”

“Oh, yeah,” Debbie said. She pressed the rim of the bottle to her lips and blew over the top of it, making a noise like a train whistle. “She figured it out. Beneath the outer layer of mom jeans and lollipops, Tammy’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

Lou nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she’s the best.”

Debbie smiled and took a sip of her beer. Lou watched her carefully.

“So, Tammy figured out you were…what? In love with me?”

“Pretty much.” Debbie met Lou’s eyes with a slightly bashful expression. “Before _I_ did, anyway.”

Lou tried not to let her face fall into a “well, duh” kind of expression, but wasn’t entirely successful. Debbie face cracked into a smile. She began to laugh, and so did Lou, because suddenly the absurdity of it all was too much to bear. Debbie wiped tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes, and Lou leaned one shoulder against the fridge with her ribs aching. But it felt right – to tell the truth and hear it back, to laugh with Debbie, to love her completely. Eventually they each laughed themselves into silence, and Lou reached across the counter to run her hand through Debbie’s hair.

“What are we doing tonight?” Lou asked, trying her luck.

Debbie shrugged, but Lou noticed that Debbie seemed to be finding it difficult to meet her eyes. “Just thought we could spend an evening together, maybe order Chinese.” Debbie’s voice was a bit too high to pass for casual.

“How is that different from what we normally do?” Lou narrowed her eyes.

“Well, you’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” Debbie said, sliding off her stool and walking towards the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder at Lou with a pseudo-innocent expression and a suggestive twinkle in her eye. “Coming?”

Lou drained the last of her beer and followed Debbie upstairs, shaking her head slightly, because this still felt like a dream. But then, she reasoned with herself a few minutes later as she licked her way up Debbie’s left leg, perhaps _this_ was too good to be a dream. Debbie was solid and warm under her hands and her mouth, and every sound that fell from her slightly parted lips was more honest and real than any words Lou knew. There was something utterly profound in the way Debbie awoke parts of her body and soul that had lain dormant her whole life. Epiphany, imagination, and truth coursed together in her veins, giving _life_. And what could be more real and mysterious than life itself?

**

Debbie grew quiet throughout the afternoon, and Lou knew there was something coming. It didn’t worry her; this was Debbie’s process. She was making sure all the elements of her plan were in place, so that when she told Lou, the whole scheme would be laid out like a map in front of them. And then the work would begin, whatever it was. Debbie leaned against Lou on the couch, flicking through _Sherlock Holmes_ as Lou paged through a few news stories covering the end of the Crown Jewels exhibit at the Met. Any day now, the “jewels” would be returned to their wealthy Russian owner, and then…Lou smirked at the thought.

The doorbell rang at half-past six with their take-out order, and Debbie sprang to her feet, nearly tripping over the edge of the rug in her haste to get to the door. Lou pretended not to notice. She rose from the couch slowly and began to collect plates and cutlery from the kitchen. She pulled some white wine from the fridge and poured two glasses, feeling warm and pleased with the world. This was – after all – exactly where she belonged: preparing to stand beside Debbie once more as they took on a job.

Lou barely registered the tiny, blue velvet box on top of the take-out containers as she made her way towards the poker table with the dishes, but Debbie’s eyes gave it away, flicking down for a fraction of a second. Lou stopped, her heart beating in her chest. She could hear a rushing sound in her ears as the truth pieced itself together in her mind. Almost without conscious thought, she moved forward and carefully placed the plates on the table and wiped her slightly sweaty palms on the sides of her jeans.

“Debbie?” she said quietly. Her voice didn’t feel like her own. 

Debbie met her eyes, wordlessly picked up the box and opened it.

Lou glanced down, though she was finding it very difficult to tear her eyes away from Debbie’s face. Opals. Of course. She’d always loved them; they made her think of Australia. And Debbie must have known, of course she did, because Debbie knew her soul better than she did. She felt her chest rise and fall, her breath clearly audible against the quiet surrounding them.

“Lou,” Debbie said quietly, and Lou’s eyes snapped upwards from the ring, noticing the moisture in Debbie’s eyes.

“It’s,” Lou began, but her voice cracked and she started over, “It’s beautiful, Debbie.”

“Will you?” Debbie cocked her head to the right with a small smile on her face.

“ _Yes_. God, _of course_ , I will,” Lou said, her voice louder than she meant it to be. She held out her hand and slipped the rings off it onto the table where their clatter went unnoticed by either of them.

The gold was cool as Debbie slid the ring onto Lou’s finger, but Debbie’s hand was hot against hers. Her fingers trembled slightly, and Lou brought her other hand to the side of Debbie’s face, running her thumb over her cheek. How could she not have known? Everything seemed so obvious now, and for a moment Lou wished she had a ring to give Debbie in return, but they could work that out later, choose stones and a design together. Lou pulled Debbie into her arms and felt the tension melt from Debbie in a wave, though her own heart was still beating rapidly, hardly able to believe what had happened.

“Here,” Debbie said, extricating herself from Lou’s arms for a moment and walking past her into the kitchen to get the wine Lou had poured mere minutes ago, though it might have been a lifetime. Debbie returned to Lou’s side and handed her a glass. Lou stole a glance down at her hand and a fresh feeling of excitement stirred in her again. Debbie leaned close to Lou, close enough so that Lou could feel her breath against her neck and then her ear. “I love you,” Debbie whispered almost inaudibly.

Lou felt tears well in her eyes and found she couldn’t respond. She just nodded a few times and smiled at the proud smile spreading across Debbie’s face. Debbie clinked her glass against Lou’s and took a sip of wine, and Lou did too, grateful for the cold, sharp flavor on her tongue. She leaned forward and kissed Debbie, sharing the cool tang of the wine and the heat that burned in her flesh. Debbie’s hand found hers and Lou felt her fingers run over the ring sending a shiver down Lou’s spine.

“Let’s eat,” Debbie said finally, pulling away after another minute. “I’m starving.”

“I love you, Debs,” Lou said as they sat down at the table, unable to take her eyes off of Debbie, sitting across from her looking as pleased as she had the night after the Met Gala.

Debbie winked at her and began loading her plate.

**

“You really had no idea?” Debbie asked breathlessly as they lay together in bed that night, limbs tangled together, surrounded by discarded clothing.

“No,” Lou said through a laugh. She shook her head. “I thought you were planning a job.”

Debbie shrugged. “It kinda felt the same as a job.”

Lou held up her hand and admired the iridescence of the opals in the light of the moon pouring in through the window. It was a few days past full, but its light was still strong. “This looks like Amita’s work,” Lou said, glancing at Debbie for confirmation.

Debbie nodded.

“So, who else knows?”

“They’ll all know tomorrow; I promised Amita we’d have everyone over to tell them. But right now, it’s just her, and…” Debbie stopped and Lou shot her a quizzical look. Debbie continued with a slightly shy look on her face, “and I stopped by the cemetery earlier.”

“Danny?”

Debbie nodded. “Had to tell him I was going to propose.” She had a small, sad smile on her face.

Lou found Debbie’s hand and squeezed it.

**

The idea of permanence was as foreign to Lou as the idea of paying for eyeliner, but Debbie Ocean had turned her world upside down more than once before, and Lou had no doubt she’d do it again. She already had, Lou thought, as she stroked Debbie’s hair after she’d nodded off with her head on Lou’s chest. She thought back to how she’d felt as the California wind whipped across her face two months ago, as she flew along the edge of the sea. Each sunset over the Pacific had reminded her of Debbie, and as the sun rose over the mountains each morning, she felt pulled back eastwards to New York, to the loft, to Debbie. So, she had come home. And it turned out that home was more different and more wonderful than she could’ve imagined. She held Debbie close and pressed kisses into her hair. Breathe, she reminded herself. She matched her breaths to Debbie’s slow breathing, slipping into sleep with the knowledge that when she awoke, it would be their first day of forever.

**

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last chapter was very self-indulgent and the ending is pretty cheesy. But hey, sometimes that's a good thing. It was all I could do to *not* end with "and they lived happily ever fucking after." 
> 
> Tell me what you think! 
> 
> Also, I have some vague ideas about future fics for this pairing, but nothing certain. Let me know in the comments if you have thoughts about what you'd like to read!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me very happy!


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